Risk
by gsrshipper
Summary: It started with an accidental kiss. It ended with an accident. WIP. [GSR]
1. Chapter 1

This is my first G/S fic. My writing skills aren't exactly impressive, so reviews and comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks :D.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters.

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**Chapter 1**

It was a typical shift at the crime lab, or so it seemed.

"Long night, huh?"

Nick shrugged as he strode side by side with Warrick down the CSI corridors. "It was worth it. Just rapped up my homicide."

"Lucky," Warrick mumbled, "My B&E doesn't seem to be headed anywhere. I'm thinking of calling it quits if DNA doesn't pan out by tomorrow night." He sighed and nodded at Judy, the receptionist, as she ambled by. "How's about we grab some breakfast?"

"I'm down. Let me just run this by Grissom first," Nick said, tapping the file safely secured in his left hand.

Warrick nodded, and the pair made a quick right. "Have you noticed anything strange with Grissom lately?"

Nick smirked, "Define strange."

"Like…tired."

"Grissom always looks tired," he said as they approached Grissom's office.

"Yeah, but I mean—" Warrick froze along side Nick at the doorway as they took in the sight in front of them. Gil Grissom: workaholic and man who never sleeps, was _sleeping_, sleeping _on the clock_. Leaning comfortably back on his chair, glasses drooping low on the bridge of his nose, files scattered all over his desk, and a bottle of migraine pills without the lid, the image was actually comical. "Gris?" Warrick whispered, taking a step into the office. "Grissom…"

Nick suppressed the urge to laugh by jamming his fist over his mouth. That didn't conceal the smile forming on his lips, however. "What I would _give_ for a camera right now." Noticing Warrick's lips twitch upward made him grin wider. "Grrissoomm…" he drawled.

Nothing.

"He's not dead is he?"

Warrick rolled his eyes. "I guess the bossman's human after all."

"What are you two doing?" a female voice called directly behind them.

"Shh!" Both men hissed.

Catherine looked at the two younger CSI's with raised eyebrows and a slightly open mouth. Brushing pass them, she got a full view of what they were intrigued over. Her jaw dropped even further. "What the hell…"

"You wouldn't happen to have a camera, would you Cath?"

"No, what I would give for one though…"

Nick nodded, still smiling, "That's what I said."

"He could get in a lot of trouble for this. Especially if Ecklie's around, should we wake him up? Or maybe close the door at least?" Warrick asked.

Catherine gave a nod, "You got a point th—"

"—I've got the trace results for…what're you guys doing?" They turned to see Sara hovering at the doorway.

"Shh!" This time even Catherine joined in.

"Cath, I've got the Trace results from the victim's jacket," she said arching an eyebrow. Finally looking over Nick's shoulder, her other eyebrow shot up. "You're shitting me…" she huffed out a laugh.

"Nope," Catherine said pointedly. "I say we just close his door and let him be before Ecklie decides to pay him a visit. You shouldn't be sleeping on the job, but God knows that man deserves some rest."

"I think we should wake him up. He's not even waking up when we're all in here yakking our mouths off, so I'd doubt he'd wake up if Ecklie even _has_ the courtesy to knock," Warrick interrupted.

"Good point."

Just as Catherine was about to ask for votes, Grissom emitted a low rumble.

The four CSI's froze.

"Honey…stop that tickles…" he mumbled, a grin spreading on his face.

Nick looked like he was trying real hard to keep his laughter down. Warrick looked surprised, with both eyebrows raised and was also struggling to keep his smile from growing off his face. Catherine looked thoroughly disgusted. Sara…Sara just looked.

Their disbelief and utter fascination continued to grow as Grissom giggled. _'Grissom giggles?'_ The low rumble of his laughter faded and twisted into a smirk. "Sara…"

The tides turned as Nick, Warrick, and Catherine lost all expression on their faces, while Sara's eyebrows shot to her hairline and her jaw dropped to her feet. Noticing three pairs of eyes on her, she felt her face begin to flush.

"Interesting…" Catherine drawled quietly.

Warrick let out a breath and smiled, "Very."

"Looks like Grissom's a normal stereotypical male after all," Nick added, shooting Sara a smirk.

She blushed even more profusely and was sure her face was apple red by now. Her embarrassment suddenly warped into fury. 'What the hell! The man has no right dreaming about me when he obviously can't do anything remotely close to it when he's awake. And not only dream about me, but _talking in his sleep_ about me. And not only talking in his sleep about me, but talking in his sleep about me _at the lab—in front of everyone_!' Sara furrowed her brows and scowled, "I'm waking him up!"

Before anyone had the chance to grab her, she strode confidently around his desk and laid her hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. "Grissom."

How many times had he had this dream? Too many. And still he loved it when it approached the heated part, and she began chanting his name, usually ending with a scream. He grinned, wishing he would never wake up. "Grissom," she moaned as she ran her hand up his shoulder.

"God…Sara."

Three snorts rang through the office, as they tried desperately to not laugh. Sara glared at them, shooting daggers with her eyes. She started to pull her hand away from its position on his shoulder, when she was yanked back. It threw her off balance as she landed awkwardly in Grissom's lap, her face plunging toward his, and finally, her lips crashing into his. His other arm reached up around her and held onto the back of her head, effectively pinning her face to his. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the bulge in his pants.

This was definitely not how she imagined their first kiss. A goodnight kiss after dinner and movies, maybe an awkward, shy kiss while cuddling up on his couch, but _definitely_ not thrown across his lap, lips barely able to move, in front of all her co-workers. Co-workers! Present and watching! Remembering that there was an audience, she placed both of her flailing hands on his chest and pushed with all her might. "GRISSOM!"

He sighed as he came back to earth from heavenly bliss. There was the scream, the one that usually ended his dream promptly, leaving him hot and bothered, yet sometimes relieved. 'Time to open the eyes now,' he automatically thought. This was always the worst part, opening his eyes and confirming that it was all a dream.

He saw nothing but blur as his eyes came into contact with the light at first, but after blinking a couple times, he focused on a face. Sara's face. Sara's extremely _red_ face. 'It _wasn't_ a dream?'

"What…" he cleared his throat, "What just happened?"

Sara gaped at him.

His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, and he stared at her as if she were an incriminating piece of evidence. "Did we…" Looking down, he noticed that he was fully clothed. He looked back up and confirmed that she was too. More importantly, he noticed his surroundings. 'My office! What the hell happened!'

"Ahem!"

He swiveled his head to see Nick, Warrick, and Catherine by the doorway, each conveying different expressions: pleasantly surprised, amused, and on border of shock and wanting to vomit, respectively. Realization dawned on him as he began to piece the puzzle together. "Sara…" he began, turning to her. She was still clearly embarrassed, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She sighed, "Look—it's—it's ok Grissom." She maneuvered around his desk and headed toward the door. "As I was saying Cath, I got the results from Trace."

The older woman gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

"Traces of octinoxate, octisalate, oxybenzone, and titanium dioxide, commonly found in sunscreen. I…um…I'll be in DNA. Hopefully, the semen we collected was a match to the boyfriend's." With that, she strode out of the office without a backwards glance.

Grissom looked as if he were still on the verge of getting words out, staring blankly at the space she just vacated, and mouth forming a slight 'o.'

"Uh, I rapped up the homicide in Henderson…just needed to give you this," Nick said, dropping his file on the already large stack on Grissom's desk.

Warrick shifted uncomfortably, "Breakfast, remember Nick?"

"Oh, yeah. Breakfast—right," Nick stammered, and the two men exited the office as quickly as possible.

Grissom pulled his glasses off and let out a slow, yet long breath. He stood up slowly and began to reorganize the files on his desk. "Gil." He looked up, noticing Catherine was still lingering in front of him, faintly amused yet slightly confused. "Next time you take your migraine pills, you might want to read the side-effects first." She gave him a faint smile supported with a cocked eyebrow and turned for the door.

"I don't usually fall asleep," he murmured.

She paused slightly. "That's not what I meant," she replied, then leaving him alone in his office.

Grissom frowned in confusion. Looking down slightly below his waist, he realized what Catherine was talking about. He quickly sat back down, not daring to leave the office looking like he was carrying a rocket in his pocket. "Believe me Catherine, this isn't the work of my pills," he murmured to himself.

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First fic…please review? Constructive criticism would be gladly accepted too :D. I hope to continue soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews everyone! It inspires me to write more. To answer your questions, lantiscod, when Grissom mumbled "Honey…stop that tickles," he was dreaming of Sara and him…doing stuff….in a bed…I hope that helps paint a picture. And when he said "Believe me Catherine, this isn't the work of my pills," he was referring to his ahem and how his migraine pills aren't what caused it to be "erect."

Hope everyone enjoys chapter 2.

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**Chapter 2**

He strolled down hallway, careful not to bump into people as he scanned the assignment sheet in his hand. Only one case tonight: Decomp in the middle of the desert. Grissom was dreading the beginning of shift. Things had been going so well lately. Ever since Nick's close encounter with death, Grissom had promised himself to be less serious and more social when it concerned his team. It was going so well too. He smiled a lot more, he cracked jokes with everyone, and he even attended some meals after shift, but he did _not_ want to face his team after what happened in his office last night. Thank god it was Greg's night off. At least one of his team members didn't witness or know of the last night's little incident. He entered the break room silently, only his footsteps disturbing the peace.

"Puh-lease."

"It's true, Nick!"

"No way, nothing hurts more than that! Not even pregnancy," he responded, waving a hand through the air.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Trust me, it's practically proven that giving birth is the mother of all pains. No pun intended."

Grissom raised his eyebrow in curiosity as he headed for the coffee pot.

Warrick grinned, "I don't know, why don't we ask our resident mother?"

"The resident mother doesn't want to remember," Catherine stated, holding her hands in the air. "Let's just say that Lindsey was just as stubborn then as she is now."

"See Nicky, it hurt so much that Catherine doesn't even want to remember it."

"As _geeky _as you are Sara, let's get an opinion from the walking encyclopedia." She frowned at him. "Hey Grissom—"

Grissom turned from the coffee pot and grinned at Nick. "And how may the…_walking encyclopedia _be of assistance?"

Nick smirked, "Simple question. What hurts more: giving birth or getting kicked in the nuts?"

Grissom's brow rose and his lips puckered in thought. Sara couldn't help but stare at his expression, noting that it was the look he always made when he was thinking of something. "I can't answer that."

Warrick laughed. "You can't? Or you won't?" he jabbed playfully.

"I can't. Being a male, I'm bias when pertaining to the question." He cocked his head thoughtfully, "However, I was there the two weeks after Lindsay was born. Considering Catherine's constant complaining of the experience, I'd have to agree with Sara."

Sara smirked at Nick. "The encyclopedia speaks."

Nick rolled his eyes, "_Clearly,_ the encyclopedia's never gotten kicked in the balls."

Grissom scoffed playfully into his coffee mug.

Catherine couldn't help but smirk, "Oh, I'm sure his balls experienced a different kind of pain yesterday.

Sara's face flushed and Grissom sputtered in mid-sip of his coffee. Warrick snorted and Nick masked his laughter with coughs. "Did you and Sara rap up your case, Catherine?" Grissom asked, immediately changing the subject.

"File's on your desk, Gil. DNA found was a match to the boyfriend's. Sara pulled a double and managed to get a warrant for the boyfriend's house and car."

Sara added, "I found sunscreen that matched the trace on the victim's jacket, as well as the murder weapon and bloody clothes. He killed her. Plain and simple."

Grissom smirked at Catherine, and then looked to Nick and Warrick. "Good," he handed the assignment slip to Catherine, "Decomp in the desert. You're primary."

Catherine scowled at him. Nick and Warrick snickered while giving each other a light high five.

Grissom grinned evilly, "Nick, Warrick, you two will be assisting Catherine." He got two groans in reply.

Nick frowned, "Man…"

"That's cruel Griss," Warrick mumbled, getting up. He playfully pointed a finger at Catherine, who was also starting to stand, "Should have kept your mouth shut, Cath."

Catherine rolled her eyes, "Oh, it was worth it." Walking toward the door, she looked at Grissom, "You and Sara have fun. Though I'm _sure _you guys can find something to do." Grissom glared at her as she sauntered out into the hallway.

The two boys grinned at each other, and then murmured their goodbyes.

Grissom rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Sara. "So…"

"Yeah."

"Listen Sara…I'm really sorry…about—about last night."

It was Sara's turn to roll her eyes. She stood up abruptly and crossed her arms in front of her chest, "Why are you sorry?"

There was the 'thinking' look again. "I—I don't know. It wasn't exactly appropriate. I didn't mean to—to…embarrass you," he stammered.

"Well, you did."

"I'm sorry."

She stared at him. He stared at her. Both remained silent for a while before she finally broke the ice, "It's embarrassing when you know someone's attracted to you, but he can only express himself while he's sleeping." She laughed cynically, avoiding his eyes, and walking to the door, "Kind of makes you feel…unworthy."

"Sara…"

She stopped at the door, facing away from him, "Page me if another case comes up."

"Sara…" She stilled and turned her head slightly. "I…I don't know what to—"

"—do about this? Yeah, I know."

"No. I mean, I don't know what to say—to make this better," Grissom sighed. Sara stared at him, feeling a bit of de-ja-vu, when he gestured, batting the air in between them. "Would…would you…" Grissom sighed again as he tried to get the words out. "Let's…" _Dammit._ "How about we…"

Sara hung her head slightly, and then raised it back up. "Look, its okay Grissom." She gave him a clearly forced smile, "For once, say nothing." With that she was out the door.

"…have dinner," he murmured to an empty room.

* * *

"Whew…" Nick whistled as he approached Brass.

Warrick and Catherine scrunched their noses up, "God that scent could be picked up a mile away."

'Why, hello to you too, Catherine," Brass replied. "Where's the rest of the geek cavalry? I heard it was a slow night."

"Greg has the night off."

Brass wrinkled his brow, "He isn't the geek I'm referring to."

Catherine shifted her jaw slightly and smirked, "Grissom and Sara are back at the lab." She paused, and then mumbled under her breath, "Doing God knows what."

Brass looked at her questioningly. When Catherine gave no clarification, he turned back to the decomposing body. "All yours," he chirped sarcastically.

"Mmph," Catherine groaned as she took another step toward the body. "Warrick, Nick…you guys process the body. I'll search the perimeter for footprints." Upon seeing their evil glares toward her, she wittingly added, "Primary," gesturing to herself and throwing her hands up as if to say, 'what can you do about it?'

They set off to work quickly, wanting to spend as little time there as possible. After about half an hour, Warrick and Nick finished processing what was left of the body, and Catherine managed to photograph and document a set of footprints and some tire marks. "You guys get anything?"

Nick nodded, "Fibers on the body. It wasn't covered in…" he gestured toward the decomp and wrinkled his nose, "…yeah, so it could be left behind by the killer."

"I got a wedding band, and some sort of paint on the shoes," Warrick added.

"Okay, let's get the evidence back to the lab then."

Warrick looked at the sky with his chin nestled in his hand, "I don't think the body was dumped here after the victim was killed." He pondered for a moment, "If that was the case, you'd think the vultures around this area would have gotten to him first."

"Yeah, that's true. No way would a fresh corpse be left out here to decompose," Nick confirmed.

"Well, David will bring what's left of the victim to the morgue. For now," Catherine held up the camera in her hand, "we just follow the evidence."

* * *

Grissom walked into the layout room and stared at the sight. Sara was focused on her report, pen quickly scrawling over the sheet of paper. As much as he wanted to keep enjoying the view, they had work to do. "Sara."

She looked up, "New case?"

He nodded, "Missing person. Twenty-one year old female, reported missing by her boyfriend."

"Okay, guess my report will have to wait."

"Sara," Grissom said, taking a step toward her. She looked at him questioningly, almost begging for him not to speak. "I really think we need to talk."

He was extremely uncomfortable, and she could sense it. "No we don't, Grissom," she flashed him a soft smile. "I forgive you for last night, so let's just move on."

A bubble of anger formed inside him. 'How can she let me off so easy?' Grissom silently fumed. Realization suddenly struck him. Sara had _always _let him off easy, and he was the total opposite. When he found out about Hank, how had he treated her? He kept her at an arms length and practically avoided her like the plague during work. He made her go out solo when she took his advice and got a life. And how did she react? Completely professional. Well, as professional as one could be. 'Oh God.' What about the lead CSI promotion? He recommended Nick for it _after_ he gave Sara a _higher_ evaluation. If Grissom was honest with himself, he only gave Nick the promotion because he knew it would cause fewer problems: no rumors of favoritism. Even then, Sara gave him the benefit of the doubt, which ultimately led to her almost DUI. 'God what am I doing to her? What am I doing to me? What am I doing to _us?_' His head swam in confusion.

"No."

Sara cocked an eyebrow, "No what?"

"No, we will not move on. Not until we talk about this, Sara."

She threw her hands up in exasperation, "What do you want from me Grissom?" She sounded a bit too calm. "I'm giving you the opportunity to drop this and never mention it again."

Grissom frowned at her, "Exactly." He stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder, ignoring her flinch. "Why do you always let me off the hook so easily?"

"What? Are you kidding me Grissom?" She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and walked away.

"No. I'm serious. I acted inappropriately as a supervisor; it affects your career in a negative way, and all you do is harm _yourself_ by almost drinking into a DUI." Her face scrunched up in fury, and Grissom quickly added, "I should have been the one punished."

"Look Gri—"

"—You should've yelled at me. You should've filed a complaint. You _shouldn't_ have taken it out on yourself!" Grissom wasn't yelling, but he did feel his voice raise a notch. "And that day in my office, you told me I was more than just a boss to you." She was about to interrupt him, but he continued on. Once you start, it's hard to stop. "You basically implied that I was the reason you are in Vegas right now. And—and I finally realized what you meant…so I try to ask you out! But you stopped me. Once again you let me off the hook!"

Sara stared at him, expecting him to continue. When he didn't, she finally found her voice, "Yes, I knew what you were going to do. I knew you were trying to ask me out…and I stopped you."

Grissom sighed and closed his eyes, "Why?" There was a brief pause, "Why do you want to inflict pain on yourself, leaving me unscathed, Sara?"

She laughed. "Trust me Grissom, as much as I want to make _your _life easier, I was acting just as selfish."

"By denying yourself what you want?"

"Wow, you certainly think highly of yourself Griss," she stated sarcastically. "How do you know that it's _you_ I want?"

Grissom's face twisted into a mix of confusion and hurt. "I just assumed—"

"—You _assumed_ that because I asked you out, and had blatant feelings for you the past couple of years, that what I wanted is a date with you?" She practically snorted, "I want your love and affection, Grissom."

Why did she sound so calm? His heart was beating ten times faster than usual, and here she was, talking to him as if they were discussing a case. "I tried to ask you out Sara," he defended, looking out the door to make sure their conversation was still private.

"Yes, you did. But I want your love and affection _forever, _Grissom. Not just for one date. Not even for ten dates." He stared at her as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. "You don't get it do you, Grissom?" She sighed, "By giving you an easy way out, I kill two birds with one stone. You don't have to go on feeling all uncomfortable and wind up saying something you regret, and _I _prevent myself from having my heartbroken in the future."

"What makes you so sure you'd be heartbroken?"

She smiled wistfully and walked past him, grabbing the assignment sheet he still clutched so tightly in his hand. "We better get going," she held the slip up over her head as she reached the door, "Case, remember?"

"Sara—"

She whirled around to face him, "—You'd have to risk everything you've worked for in order to have me." With a phony smile and a shake of her head, she left the room, but not before uttering a final phrase that pierced his heart, "You couldn't…you _can't_ do it."

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Feedback/Comments are definitely welcomed, so it the "Go" button. :D 


	3. Chapter 3

It's been a while since my last update, because my computer was out of commission for a while. Hope everyone enjoys; feedback is always welcome.

And a special thanks to **drakien** for being an awesome beta!

Happy holidays everyone:)

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**Chapter 3**

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since their little conversation in the layout room. After they solved the missing person's case, they hadn't worked on another case together since. Sara scowled as she munched on her apple in the break room. 'I should have just kept my stupid mouth shut,' she thought. She idly flipped through the forensics magazine in front of her, mind still on Grissom. He was acting completely unprofessional toward her again, and frankly, she was tired of being paired with Nick and Greg. Not that she loved working with Catherine and Warrick, but Grissom seemed to be purposely dividing the team up based on his mood. Her scowl deepened at the thought as she walked over and deposited her apple core in the trash can.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Nick threw her a smile as he strolled in. "Or should I say goodnight?"

Sara shot him a smirk. "Call me 'sunshine' again, and I'll stick my foot up where the sun _don't_ shine, Nicky-boy."

"Ouch. Since when do you speak _gangsta_?"

"Only when I'm in a foul mood." She flopped back in her seat, leaning back along with the magazine.

Nick grinned, "So what's got your panties in a bunch? Case? No…I've worked the latest case with you, and it was practically open and shut. Hmm, since it's not work…dare I say…hot date gone bad?" Sara frowned into her magazine. His Texan drawl was extremely annoying, especially when he was teasing her.

"Who's got a hot date?"

Sara peered over her magazine just in time to see Greg bounce over to the coffee pot. "No one. Nick's just assuming things again."

"Well maybe _that's_ why you're in a bad mood," Nick stated, trying to be serious. His cheesy smile gave him away though.

"That can be changed." Greg sat down in the seat opposite from Sara and wagged his brows at her.

She set aside her magazine and glared at him, "Thanks, but no thanks."

Greg pouted.

"Aw, now look Sar…you hurt his feelings," Nick said in this ridiculous child's voice.

"Contrary to _your_ belief Nicky, my mood _is_ caused by something work related," Sara said, attempting to sound playful, but failing miserably. "And interesting enough, I've been working with you two for the past two weeks. Hope you're catching my drift."

Seeing that she was serious, the two men dropped their smiles. "Something we did Sara?" Greg asked cautiously.

"No." Sara replied, a little too quickly. She shook her head, "No, it's not you guys." She noticed that they didn't look entirely convinced. Sighing, she added, "Trust me, I wouldn't be talking to you if you were the problem."

"Wanna talk about it?" Nick asked genuinely.

"Don't worry. It's my problem, I'll deal with it." She smirked at the two boys, "Truce?"

Greg laughed, "Better than feeling the brunt of your wrath!" Rolling her magazine up, Sara reached over and whacked him in the head. Nick laughed as Greg pretended to howl with pain. Sara grinned smugly. That was how he caught them.

"Ready to work?" Grissom's voice cut the friendly atmosphere up like a sharp knife through cheese.

Greg's ears practically drooped. Nick cleared his throat, "What have you got for us?"

"Warrick and Catherine are just wrapping up their case. We've got a double homicide tonight and a cold case to reopen."

"Cold case?" Nick inquired.

"Yes, the decomp in the desert you, Warrick, and Catherine worked about two weeks ago."

Nick shook his head, "No way. We covered every inch of that scene. Footprints, trace, fibers…they don't mean anything when we can't identify the victim."

Grissom grinned, "Well now we can. Apparently the wife came back from a business trip and found her husband missing. Filed a missing person's report, and just an hour ago she confirmed the wedding band was that of her husband's. Mr. Gregory and Mrs. Sarah Shelby."

"Unbelievable," Nick murmured.

"Yeah, talk about cosmic hints, eh Sara?" Greg clucked his tongue playfully and grinned at her.

"In your dreams, Greggo."

"I can't believe we got a lead on that case," Nick pointed out.

Grissom cleared his throat, "You'll be put back on the case," he stated, addressing Nick. "Catherine and Warrick will join you as soon as they wrap their case up. Greg, we have a double homicide from what looks like a gang related shooting. Sofia is already waiting for us at scene. I'm primary." He raised his eyebrows, "Questions?"

Sara frowned, "Yeah, I got one. What am I suppose to do? Sit around in the lab?"

"Oh." Grissom shifted his gaze upon her. '_Oh?' _Was that the best he could do these days? "I thought I implied that you'd be working with Greg and me."

"_Oh," _Sara mimicked. "I'm sorry; I guess I never received that implication. Thank you for clearing that up Grissom," she retorted in a fairly sarcastic manner.

Nick stood up, "Oookay…I'll be in the evidence vault if anyone needs me."

Grissom nodded. "Greg, meet us at the car. Sara, I need to talk to you in my office, please."

Greg nodded and gave Sara a look of sympathy before he walked out the break room. Grissom followed suit and headed for his office. Sara shot a murderous glare at his back before following him. Once instead the safe confines of his office, she relaxed the angry look on her face and spoke up. "What's this about Grissom?"

"Sit down."

She reluctantly took a seat in front of him as he planted himself behind his desk. "Okay, I'm sitting. What's this about?" She faked a small, playful grin.

"I've been thinking."

Sara rolled her eyes and smiled at him, "Surprise of the century there."

There was no anger in her voice. There wasn't even any annoyance, just resignation and a hint of sadness. Grissom was a little worried at how nonchalant she sounded. It wasn't the emotional Sara he could read so easily like before. Right now, he had no idea what she was thinking, and frankly, it scared him. "I didn't know, Sara," he started.

"Know what?"

"The Debbie Marlin case; you heard the interrogation."

"Yeah," Sara nodded, avoiding eye contact. Her eyes drifted to the paper cluttered on his desk, much like it did during their last private office conversation. "That was really something." A flash of deja vu crossed her mind as she remembered telling Hank "she's really something" after finding out about Elaine. She felt the same emotions now, and she could picture her face displaying the same look.

"You weren't supposed to hear it."

She looked up, "Why? I'm glad I did." Sara gave a more genuine smile this time, "It made me understand you better. It's what made me stop you from asking me out."

Grissom opened, and then promptly shut his mouth again. He struggled to find the right words, "I'm not sure I follow."

"Look, I understand, Grissom." Again with the smiling, "For the longest time I was mad at you. I hated the way you treated me at work, I hated the fact that you rejected me after looking all torn that I was supposedly dating Hank, and I definitely hated the fact that I couldn't figure out your feelings for me." She paused, and he couldn't help but notice that though they were smiles, they were all sad smiles. "Now, I understand you. You _do _care about me."

Grissom stared at her. "I…"

"Admit it Grissom, you _do _care. She spoke softly, almost like she was afraid he would hear her. "I know that now, all because of some psycho doctor. And for now, that's enough for me."

Grissom frowned in confusion, "So you don't want anything more? Just knowing that I lo—care for you is enough?" He held his breath, hoping she didn't hear him almost slip out the "L" word. If she did, she didn't show it.

Sara smiled softly at him, again with blatant sadness tugging at her lips. "For now, yes. Until you are ready, Grissom—until you are ready to take the risk."

"What if I can never do it?" he said softly.

Sara stared at her lap and shook her head, "The greatest risk is not taking one at all." She placed her hands on the arms of her chair and pushed herself into standing position. Shooting him another wistful smile, she added, "Just remember that, Grissom."

* * *

"Greg and Sara Sanders! Sounds even better than Gregory and Sarah Shelby, don't yah think?"

Grissom rolled his eyes briefly, focusing on the road ahead. He gripped the steering wheel harder as he tried to ignore the newest CSI's enthusiasm and blatant flirting. To his right, Sara responded wryly, "Only in your wildest dreams, Greggo."

He leaned forward in his seat and smirked seductively at the back of her head, "Believe me, I've had them." Though his grin was unnoticed by Sara, Grissom on the other hand could see him perfectly in the rear-view mirror. He frowned.

Sara laughed, "Oh, grow up."

"Hey! Women happen to love guys with a sense of humor," he retorted, sinking back in his seat.

"Not this woman."

Greg raised a brow, "Oh? And _what_ exactly _do_ you like, Miss Sidle?"

She smirked, "Curiosity killed the cat, Greg."

Grissom clenched the steering wheel even harder. Their flirting was getting to be too much. What could he say though? They weren't at the crime scene yet, so he couldn't chastise them for not focusing on work. It wasn't like he claimed Sara for himself, either. He sighed inwardly, deciding it was best to keep quiet.

"Try me, Sara."

"No."

Greg leaned forward again, resting his head on the top of her seat. "You just don't want to admit you might _like _me," he jabbed playfully. Sara made a gagging sound, which made him grin wider, "Come on…I'm _young, exuberant, funny…"_ he laughed, "…what more could you want?"

The truth was, Greg saw Sara more as an older sister; a mentor of sorts. The same went for Sara, as Greg's relationship to her was no more than an annoying little brother that wouldn't leave her alone; always wanting to learn more. But it was fun to harmlessly flirt with him once in a while. God knows her flirting days with Grissom were over. "I don't know…I just know I don't want you," she said, trying to sound serious, but failing miserably.

"Ohhh…" Greg flopped back and clutched his heart dramatically. "Stab in the heart, Sara." He pouted, flashing his puppy dog eyes. "I didn't know you went for old, grouchy, serious men," he added jokingly.

Grissom winced at Greg's statement, even if it was a joke. But to his surprise, as well as Greg's, Sara answered without a second's thought, "Yeah, well I do."

This time, Grissom wasn't able to suppress his grin.

* * *

Hit the "go" and let me know what you think. Happy holidays everyone:) 


	4. Chapter 4

I know it's been FOREVER since my last update. I've literally been writing one sentence a day for that past three months. School can be a pain sometimes. Well, I hope those who read the previous chapters still remember. Enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Special thanks to **drakien **for being an awesome beta!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The trio approached the house simultaneously, ducking under the crime scene tape. Sofia greeted them with a nod, and then focused her attention solely on Grissom. "You're late," she said with what looked like a seductive smirk. Grissom simply raised an eyebrow in reply, urging her to continue. "One of the neighbors called it in; went to deliver mail that was put in the wrong mailbox. Victim's name is Benjamin Preston." She shook her head slightly, "He's one of us."

"Shot in his own home?"

"Yeah." Sofia paused briefly. "Shame really, he just got promoted to Detective a few weeks back."

"I thought this was a double homicide?" Sara asked, her eyes traveling around the perimeter of the crime tape and the numerous neighbors behind it.

"Yeah, I was getting to that." She turned back to Grissom again, causing Sara to frown ever so slightly. "The second victim has no relation to the first. Jacob Wright. I found his school ID in his wallet; senior year in high school; technically victim number one since he was the one discovered by the neighbor."

"You touched the body?" Sara inquired.

"I _was_ a CSI," Sofia retorted defensively. "I figured the sooner we ID the body, the better.

"Maybe you should leave that to us next time," Grissom said impassively. "Detective."

Sofia scoffed humorously. Sara smirked slightly. Greg simply raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Grissom sighed. "Senior year is always the best year," he said, almost like he was speaking to himself.

"Because it was the easiest?" Greg nodded, "Partying and slacking off; definitely memorable."

Grissom shook his head slightly. "Because it was over after that."

Sara raised a brow, and then turned her attention back to the blonde. "Got the wallet?"

"Bagged and tagged it, under Grissom's name of course." Grissom frowned in annoyance. Sofia pointed to the car in the driveway, "The teenager was found in the back seat. Detective Preston was found in the house, right next to the door."

"Grissom, I thought you said this was a gang related shooting, though?"

"It is," Sofia replied, eyeing the youngest CSI. "You'll understand when you see what's at the front door.

"Great," Grissom nodded, gesturing to the house, "Shall we?" They started to walk up the driveway, when Grissom spoke out again, "Not you, Greg. I want you to question all these neighbors out here with Sofia. See if you can find anything interesting."

Greg frowned slightly, "You and Sara gonna cover both bodies?"

Grissom smirked, "We'll manage without you."

"I'm sure you will," Greg muttered in reply, stalking off with Sofia to a very large group behind the yellow tape.

Sara grinned at Greg's retreating back before turning her attention back to Grissom. "Which DB do you prefer?"

"I think we should work them one at a time. Together." Sara stared at him. He cleared his throat. "It would be easier; no comparing notes."

She blinked, "Ok…which one first then?"

"Which one do you think was the target?"

"Must you answer my question with another question?"

"Must you ask questions with obvious answers?" Grissom replied, a playful tone to his voice.

Sara huffed out a light laugh. One minute the man standing before her was 'unattainable, love of her life Griss,' and the next he was 'science nerd, know-it-all Gil Grissom.' She felt so awkward and uncomfortable with him when they were alone, room filled with emotional as well as sexual tension, yet so playful and connected with him when they were at a crime scene, when he was just her colleague and mentor.

It scared her.

There were times that Sara thought that maybe a mentor and supervisor was what Grissom was meant to be for her, despite her feelings. She obviously felt more comfortable around him when they were both working, connecting their brains rather their hearts. But as time passed, the feelings in her heart seemed to grow stronger instead of going away. It was then she realized that 'unattainable, love of her life Griss,' and 'science nerd, know-it-all Gil Grissom' were one and the same. The 'science nerd, know-it-all Gil Grissom' was one of the things she loved most about him.

And boy did it suck.

"They could have both been targets," she replied, smiling.

"A detective at home and an unrelated teenager in a car parked in the driveway?"

Sara rolled her eyes, "Ok, enough with the sarcasm, Grissom." She smiled at him and walked toward the front door. "Let's process the detective first."

He smiled back. "Good idea."

They approached the front door, lights skimming over a bloody knife wrapped in a bandana. Sara side-stepped Grissom and snapped a few close-ups. Swinging her camera back around her arm, she picked up the knife and examined it. "Looks like a dagger," she squinted slightly, "with some sort of snake carved into the handle."

Grissom was busy studying the bandana, "Could be from a gang we encountered years ago; they were targeting uniforms."

"I'm surprised you remember a case so long ago."

Grissom shined his light over the victim, "It's hard to forget what we don't understand."

"Killing's never meant to be understood," she replied wistfully. She carefully stepped into the dimly lit house, Grissom trailing close behind, dusting everything he encountered. Beside the entrance was the victim, sprawled on his back. Crouching to get a better look, she spotted a ten dollar bill near his hand and a five dollar bill on his waist. "Victim had cash on him. Literally," Sara noted out loud as she snapped her camera.

"Interesting how he was killed with one bullet to the heart, yet we found a bloody knife outside."

Sara glanced at him, "I don't see any other wounds."

Grissom frowned slightly, "We'll have to wait until David gets here to turn him around."

After dusting everything from the doorbell to the walls of the entryway, he slowly meandered into the remainder of the house. Sara finished bagging the bills and quickly followed. The first room they encountered was the living room. The television was turned on; blaring a loud game of Monday Night Football. Sara photographed an empty beer bottle and its now remaining five-pack, and then quickly bagged the empty bottle as evidence.

Observing the clean yet non-decorative house, she mused, "I'm guessing this guy isn't married."

"No pictures, no color, no plants…I'm assuming your guess is correct."

"Men."

Grissom raised an eyebrow and looked at her thoughtfully, "As I've asked Catherine before…what's wrong with it? It's certainly clean."

Sara smirked, "Beauty, Grissom."

The other eyebrow went up, "Excuse me?"

"There's no beauty in this home. Most people like things beautiful or attractive," she paused, "Well, at least women do."

Grissom focused his attention to the carpet, scanning for any trace of evidence. "I didn't know you were so interested in…_looks_."

"I'm not. Let's just say a night in a hockey rink got me thinking about it."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I see."

After collecting a handful of evidence from the house, the pair wandered back outside to what was technically "victim number one." Sara scanned the exterior of the car, while Grissom went to check on Greg and Sofia. She quickly printed the door handles, meeting up with Grissom before she checked the interior. "Hey, ready to check the inside?"

Grissom turned, "Let's go." Glancing back at the detective and the youngest CSI, he stated, "Keep me informed."

"Anything interesting on the neighbors?"

"Greg said that one of the neighbors saw a kid running away from the house, but thought nothing of it until now."

Sara frowned, "But he didn't hear any gunfire?"

"Apparently not," Grissom replied. He opened one of the backdoors and shined his flashlight on the body. "Is David here yet?"

"Way ahead of you, boss," a voice came from behind them. "I already checked him. I say he's been dead for over twelve hours. Just waiting for you to hand him over," David said with a small smile.

"Good. There's another one inside for you."

They examined the body for trace; an effort that ended up being fruitless. Grissom opened the passenger door, careful to not bump his head on the top of the doorway. He spotted and quickly swabbed a drop of reddish liquid. After testing it with Luminol, he concluded it was indeed not blood. Grissom scanned for any other visible trace, and after coming up empty, he rejoined his partner in the back seat. Sara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she spotted a familiar object poking out from under the seats. Carefully fishing it out, she held it up for Grissom to see.

He stared at it from the other side of the car. "So this victim died from what looks like multiple stab wounds. What's a gun doing in this car?"

"I think victim number…" she paused and gestured to the body in the car, "two?"

"Technically, he's victim number one. The neighbor spotted him first."

Sara frowned in concentration, "Ok…so victim number one, could possibly be a suspect for victim number two?"

"So who killed victim number one?"

"Wait," Sara's frown deepened. "So since victim number one could be a killer of victim number two, that means victim number two died first—technically making him victim number one—right?"

Grissom matched her frown with one of his own as he sighed. "This is going to be a long night."

* * *

Thanks to those who are reviewing! It means a lot. :) 


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the wait to those who are reading; life gets in the way too much sometimes. Thanks to those who are reviewing, it really means a lot and motivates me to update as quickly as possible.

Sadly, my beta seems to be busy or computer-less. Whatever it may be, I apologize because this chapter has not been proofread by anyone. If someone is interesting in doing so, please let me know. Thanks again, and I hope everyone reviews. :)

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Grissom strode into Trace only to be greeted by Catherine coming out. Her smirk was wide as her eyes danced quickly over the sheet of paper clutched in her hands. "How's your case?"

Catherine focused her gaze at him, "Making progress. We all seem to have different theories, though."

"Your victim was found in the desert two weeks ago. _Decomposed_." Grissom side-stepped her quickly and approached Hodges. "Which means the evidence you initially collected is all you have. Don't let your theories affect your way of interpreting it correctly," he said neutrally. Tilting his head in the opposite direction, he addressed the trace tech, "Got my results?"

"No faith, Gil." Catherine smirked, "My theory is _obviously_ correct."

Before Grissom could reply, she was already halfway down the hallway. He cleared his throat, looking expectedly at Hodges. "Oh, right! You're results," he murmured. "Um…the knife. No fingerprints, but there was something that fingerprints usually leave behind."

"Oil?" Grissom stated more than asked, his curiosity obviously peaking.

"Yes. Specifically: grease." Hodges crinkled his nose, "More importantly the heavy duty stuff that will give you a heart attack. You know, the stuff that's on your average quarter-pounder with cheese."

"So where does that leave us? Our killer ate a burger before he decided to commit murder?"

"Well, you know what they say: fast food can kill," Hodges said with an all-knowing smirk.

"Grissom." Grissom turned at the sound of his name. Greg waltzed through the doorway, paper in-hand. He couldn't help but notice how Greg was starting to look more and more like a CSI these days. His hair has relatively flattened and stayed that way; his stride lacked its usual bounce; and his speech started to sound more confident. "I got the results for the red liquid you swabbed in the car."

The eyebrow rose as expected.

"It's definitely not blood; in fact, I wouldn't even classify it as a liquid." He paused and collected his thoughts, "It's more of a paste."

"Paste?" Grissom frowned, "What kind of paste?"

Greg smirked, "I'll give you a clue. It's round, sour, and Papa Olaf's favorite vegetable."

"Tomato paste." Grissom stated more than asked.

"Technically, it's a fruit," Hodges chimed.

"Right-o, boss," Greg nodded at Grissom, ignoring Hodges completely. "Might not have anything to do with the case."

Grissom's lips twitched upwards, "Or it could have everything to do with it. What's greasy, contains tomato paste, and most importantly, can be delivered in a car?"

"My mind is _totally_ in the gutter right now," Hodges mused, pondering out loud to himself.

Grissom glared at him.

Greg smiled as his eyebrows raised, "Pizza?"

* * *

Sara sighed as she sat across a weeping woman, obviously distraught over the death of her son. "Mrs. Wright—"

"—It's Ms." She hiccupped and sniffed, "Jake's father left us when he was three."

"Ms. Wright…" Sara continued, "…can you think of any reason someone might want to hurt your son?"

The woman sniffed again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "No—Jake was a fairly good boy. He did well in school, had a lot of AP classes…he was always at the library studying. The only other time he didn't devote his life to school was when he was working or with his girlfriend."

"Fairly good boy?" Sara's right brow rose, "Why only fairly?"

"He never smoked, did drugs, or anything that most parents would be worried about. But he was never open about his feelings either. We didn't have a close relationship; I had to work to support us, so Jake spent most of his childhood living with his grandparents. They passed away several years ago. He was never hostile toward me, but he never confided in me either."

"Do you think he's capable of committing murder?"

"Murder? Dear God, no! Jake was a good kid." The tears started again, "If anything…I was a bad mother."

Sara stared down at her file, "You said he had a job; where did he work?" She cleared her throat and looked up again.

"Raphael's. It's a little pizza parlor off the strip. He'd mostly work nights and weekends, because of school. He'd bring home a deep dish pizza for us most nights…" The woman's eyes were like a faucet. It didn't help that they were blue either; she couldn't help but notice they were like pools of water, slowly being drained of life. "I can't believe he's gone…"

Scribbling down "Raphael's" on her paper, she cleared her throat yet again. "And his girlfriend?"

"Tara. Tara Reed. When she was over, they were usually studying; she was smart just like Jake. I liked her. She'll be so devastated…"

Sara smiled sympathetically at the grieving mother. "Thank you Ms. Wright. This officer here will escort you out."

She stood, one hand bracing the chair, the other still sweeping across her face. "Ms. Sidle…" Sara turned. "…Please find out what happened to my son. He is—was—my entire world."

"I will. I promise." She blinked rapidly, and exited. Sara stared at her file, feeling her eyes turning glossy, when she ran into something—or rather _someone­—_coming out of the observation room. "Sorry…" Her throat caught as she looked up at the offending road block. "Grissom."

His blue eyes bore into hers. "You shouldn't make promises you might not be able to keep."

Anger suddenly developed on her sad features, "Well, if I was a mother, I would want to know how my son died." She turned around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Her son could be a killer."

Sara continued her trek away from him. "You don't know that," she spoke without looking back. A sudden hand on her shoulder forced her to turn around.

"Sara, I'm not saying you did anything wrong. I'm just saying you should be careful making empty promises; or rather—giving her answers she might not like."

"I'd rather be promised the truth, than be told a lie to make me feel better!" Her voice rose just slightly as she turned away from him again. "Or rather—to get me to stay in Vegas."

Though she practically whispered the last part, Grissom was still able to hear it. The words pierced his heart just like a dagger had pieced Jacob Wright's. He shook his head and spoke softly, "The red liquid I swabbed in the car was tomato paste. There was grease on the knife that's consistent with grease found on fast foods. And the fifteen dollars found by Officer Preston is enough to cover a medium pepperoni pizza, plus delivery charge."

She stopped in her tracks, practically cringing at each piece of evidence Grissom rattled off that pointed to Jacob Wright as a killer. Unable to think of a retort, she murmured, "I'm going to look for Greg," and continued her path down the hall.

Grissom stared at her retreating back and let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Sara." He inhaled deeply, and exhaled, "For everything."

"_It would be best for your career if you stay, Sara."_

_She smiled brightly at him, "Well, what if I don't care about my professional endeavors at the moment?"_

"_Hmm…" Grissom matched her smile. "I think it would be a smart move to stay here for your personal life, too. He paused, and reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "Stay and work with my team, Sara. It'll be good for you"_

_Her smile shifted into a hesitate smirk as an eyebrow raised simultaneously. She obviously was still not convinced._

"_I promise."_

_Those two words apparently sealed the deal.

* * *

_

Sara strolled into the break room in hopes of finding Greg. She soon found out she accomplished her mission and then some. Warrick, Nick, and Catherine were seated around the table, discussing their case—or bickering about it—depending on how you interpreted it. Greg stood next to the coffee pot, observing quietly. He spotted Sara, and gave her his infamous flirty, yet cheerful smile. "Hey! Grissom just went looking for you a while ago. We got a lead on the case. The kid—"

She cut him off quickly, "—Yeah, I've been informed." He promptly shut his mouth. Sara gestured to the trio seated at the table. "What's going on?"

"They all seem to have different theories that support their evidence."

Nick broke away from their conversation and waved his hand at Sara, gesturing for her come join them. "Perfect, hey Sar…"

She strode forward and smirked, "Need my help, Nicky?"

He matched her smirk with one of his own. "More like your experience." He coughed humorously at her expression: eyebrows raised, mouth forming a thin line. "Let's say…you were in love with your boss…" Warrick averted his eyes and Catherine shook her head slightly at Nick. Noticing Sara's eyes narrow tremendously, he added, "_Hypothetically._"

Sara gritted her teeth, "Ok…_and?_"

"_And_ you decide to take a business trip to _Hawaii _of all places to meet up with him—for business purposes of course—wouldn't you think that he would want your _husband_ dead?"

"Depends, does he love her back?"

"They're head over heels for each other," Catherine interjected. "But the evidence doesn't support Nick's theory. The boss was already at Hawaii around time of death."

"He could have sent someone! The paint we found on the victim's shoes matches the paint he used to paint his living room before he left on the trip."

"The _fibers_ we found match the towels at the victim's house!" Catherine retorted. "I'm telling you, I think the wife did it, and then said she was on a business trip to cover it up."

Warrick shook his head, "I still think it's neither. The footprints we found are too big to belong to the wife's, but too small to belong to Garrison—the boss. And plus, why would the wife report her husband missing then?"

"I'm telling you…"

"Look…"

"Okay stop!" Sara interrupted. "And how do you _know_ that your two suspects are head over heels for each other? Did they say that specifically?"

Catherine frowned, "No."

"But it's obvious," Nick stated confidently. "I mean, we've seen it enough to recognize it." If Nick thought Sara's lips couldn't get any thinner, he was wrong. Her cheeks wore a light hue of red, her mouth was curved toward her chin, and he seemed to be the only one noticing her right foot tapping rapidly on the floor.

Warrick cleared his throat, "I may not agree with these two about who the killer is, but I agree with that statement. The victim's wife _was_ having an affair, but it was one of those situations when the person cheating is really in love with who they're cheating with." He paused and frowned, "Sad really."

Greg, who had been relatively quiet, suddenly sputtered. He coughed as the hot coffee he had been drinking went down the wrong way. Something dawned on him; something that seemed humorous yet so ironic at the same time. "So let me get this straight. _Sarah _cheated on her husband _Gregory_, because she was in love with her boss, _Garrison?_"

Nick, Warrick, and Catherine seemed to have an awfully hard time keeping their smirks in check.

Sara on the other hand, merely blinked at Greg.

He frowned, "Oh, the irony."

* * *

TBC 


	6. Chapter 6

Another update. Thanks to those who are reviewing! Though the number of reviews has gone down with every chapter I write, it still means a lot to me that there are some people reading. Enjoy!

(Oh, before I forgot…anyone interested in being my beta?)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"Grissom." He turned at the sound of his named being called. "I'm about to go interview Jacob Wright's girlfriend. Want to join?" Sara asked nonchalantly.

He glanced back down at the file in his hand, after realizing it was Sara. "I'll meet you there. I've got some work to review," he replied without even glancing up.

Sara stopped and stared at his retreating back in bewilderment as he strode down the corridor toward his office. She sighed inwardly. She promised herself that no matter what she felt or how pissed she was at Grissom, she would not let it affect her job, and she'd be dammed if she broke that promise.

As she entered the interrogation room, she gave a small smile to the red-head sitting in front of her. "Tara Reed? My name is Sara Sidle."

* * *

Grissom sighed and reread his notes over again. After the autopsy, it was confirmed that Officer Preston was killed due to a single gunshot penetrating the left ventricle of the heart. For Jacob Wright, however, COD was multiple stab wounds—the fatal one nicking the aorta. Tossing the autopsy file to the side, he picked up another one and leaned back.

Grease found on the handle of the dagger. Grease found on Jacob Wright's hands. Suicide possibly? He could have killed Officer Preston with the gun, and then committed suicide? Grissom frowned and scratched his head. That doesn't make any sense. The dagger was found by the door, and the stab wounds weren't consistent of a suicide. And plus, if he was the only one there, where was the pizza?

He tossed the file on top of the autopsy one, shuffling everything around on his desk. He squinted at the four profiles he had, each one containing information on people involved with the case: Jacob Wright; Benjamin Preston; Marie Wright—victim's mother; and Tara Reed—victim's girlfriend.

Just as he opened the first folder, there was a knock on his door. "Hey, Grissom."

The youngest of his CSIs stared back at him. "Come in, Greg. What have you got?"

Greg strode inside and dramatically landed in one of the chairs in front of Grissom. "I _finally_ finished processing the victim's car," he explained, handing Grissom the file.

"And?" he asked, reaching out to take it from him.

"Only two sets of fingerprints. One belonged to the victim, and the other belonged to his girlfriend."

Grissom shrugged, "Not surprising."

"But get this…" Greg continued, "The prints found on the steering wheel belonged to the girlfriend. If the victim was really delivering a pizza, wouldn't _he_ be the one driving?"

Grissom's tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, lips jutting forward as he scanned Greg's results. Greg smiled, "Did I break the case again?"

Grissom glanced at Tara Reed's file. _Brother: Travis Reed. Record: Involved in gang shooting March 2004. Six months probation. Minor. Arresting officer: Benjamin Preston._

"Not yet."

* * *

"We met in science class. Jake and I are both very into schoolwork. We both were nerds—yet popular, too. I was having trouble in science—it's my weakest subject—and he helped me understand it. And…it just kind of went forward from then on."

Sara nodded at the victim's girlfriend. "And did you see Jake the night he died?"

She shook her head, "He was working late that night. He always calls me after he gets off of work, and when he didn't, I just figured he forgot and was tired."

"Does he usually forget to call you?"

"No…but…" Tara sniffed, "I should have realized something was wrong…"

Sara stared at her, trying to decipher if the young woman in front of her was in fact genuine. "It's—"

"—_No_! You don't get it. I _loved_ him." Tara shook her head, "I know 18 is a young age to be in love, but we were." She swiped her eyes, "This wasn't suppose to happen…"

Sara cocked one eyebrow at Tara's words, "_What_ wasn't suppose to happen?"

The suspect in question's head snapped up at Sara's inquiry. "No! I mean, no…I meant that he wasn't suppose to die. We had our entire lives ahead of us, he was my soul mate—my intellectual equal."

Sara visibly cringed.

"I fell in love with Jake, because I can learn from him everyday. He wasn't like other boys our age—he was smart and mature. He wasn't exactly the most attractive guy in school or the most outgoing, but I loved him because of it—not in spite of. Do you know how it feels when you've lost your best friend, teacher, and lover all at the same time, Miss Sidle?"

'I must have done something to piss someone off,' Sara thought miserably. First, Nick, Warrick, and Catherine have a case dealing with a boss/subordinate affair, and now she had to sit here and listen to some teenage girl tell _her_ what it's like to be in love with someone that she's lost. Her _soul mate—her intellectual equal. _While she's never lost Grissom, she sure as hell never had him either. 'If you only knew, Tara. If you only knew…'

"Tara, with all due respect, this interrogation isn't about how much you loved your boyfriend."

"_Love._ Not loved—_love._"

Sara frowned. It was almost as if she was trying to justify his death with her love. "Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked cautiously.

"No," she sniffed. "Are we done?"

Sara nodded as the officer opened the door to escort her out. As she was just about to exit the room, a figure seemed to block her path yet again. "Sara."

"Checking up on my interrogations yet again, Grissom?" she replied lightly.

Grissom frowned, "Actually, I was watching from the observation room."

Her eyebrows raised in thought. 'I wonder how much he heard.' She leaned against the door frame and sighed, "Well, I don't think I got much from her anyway. She mostly babbled on about how much she loved him."

"A little too much if you ask me."

Though her initial thoughts were the same, that thought coming from Grissom seemed to spark a bit of irritation. "What are you saying? She was lying about her love for him?"

"Nooo," Grissom drawled. "I'm saying she could be the killer." He paused, "Or accomplice."

Sara frowned and forced her way through him and into the hallway. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

"Excuse me?" Grissom turned to face her.

"Do you always expect the worst from people?" she questioned accusingly.

Grissom scoffed and shook his head, "I'm just following the evidence, Sara. Her prints were found on the steering wheel of his car."

"I know, Grissom." Sara pursed her lips, and then spoke again, "We follow the evidence, not our emotions. I get it. But until she's proven _guilty_, it wouldn't kill you to reserve judgment." At his blank stare, she added, "She seemed genuine about her love."

"Sara…18 is a young age to be falling in love. It took _me_ 47 years."

While a part of her realized Grissom had just shared an intimate piece of information about himself, she instead huffed in response, "Don't doubt the possibility. Although I probably didn't know it back then, I think _I _fell in love around that age."

Grissom stared as she began to walk away.

"Why else would I have moved to Vegas?" she stated without looking back.

* * *

Sara entered the locker room, ready to go home and sleep off her anger and hurt. Instead, she was greeted by a bubbly Greg, and a shirtless Nick.

"Hey!" Greg greeted with his usual smile. "You're going to actually clock out on time today?"

She couldn't help but grin at Greg's playfulness, "Yep. Once in a blue moon I do, Greggo." She opened her locker in search for her purse and jacket.

"In _that_ case, howza 'bout joining Nick and me for some breakfast?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Nick chimed in, "who said I wasn't busy?"

Greg rolled his eyes dramatically and jerked his thumb behind him in the vicinity of where Nick was changing, "Like he's got anything to do."

Sara smirked as Nick huffed indignantly.

"Well cowboy? You want to get some breakfast with me and me lady or what?" Greg asked.

"Now who said _I _didn't have plans?"

Nick and Greg both gave her a pointed look, "_Please," _they both retorted simultaneously.

Now it was Sara's turn to huff. "Hey!"

Nick smirked and donned a fresh shirt. "We're just yanking your chain, Sar…we know your life is _plenty_ interesting," he quipped sarcastically.

"Yeah, just like that shirt is _plenty_ ugly," Sara shot back.

"Children…children! Stop the hatred!" Both the 'children' shot glares at Greg. "Aw come on, I'm buying?"

Nick laughed, "Since when are you making the big bucks?"

Greg rolled his eyes again, "Well? You guys in or what?"

"Yeah, why not," Nick shrugged, "I guess I can spare an hour to keep you company."

"Oh, how thoughtful…and you, Sara?"

Sara contemplated, "I dunno guys. I kind of—"

"—We know you don't have plans, Sar." Nick smirked and raised his hands in defense at her glare.

"Yeah, come on, Sara. It's been a long shift, with Grissom's new evidence and all."

Sara knew she should just let that statement drop. 'Just ignore it, go home, and get some sleep.' But as much as she wanted not to, she had to ask anyway. "What new evidence? You mean the girlfriend's fingerprints on the steering wheel?"

Greg shrugged and pointed smugly at himself, "Yep, courtesy of hours of processing the victims car by the one and only." Sara mimicked Greg's previous eye roll. "Hey! Don't underestimate that piece of evidence. Right after that, Grissom realized the girlfriend's brother has a record for being in a gang. And guess who the arresting officer was."

Sara stopped midway in putting on her jacket. Grissom forgot to mention _that_ lovely piece of evidence. She quickly shucked her jacket back into her locker and headed for the door.

"Sara?"

"Next time guys!" she said as she disappeared through the doors.

"Was it something I said?" Greg sulked.

Nick chuckled, "Word of advice, next time you want Sara to leave the lab…never mention new evidence."

Greg pouted, "Once in a blue moon my ass."

* * *

A knock on his doorframe caused Grissom to look up from his file. He wasn't surprised as Sara strode in and sat down before addressing him. "Greg told me that Tara has a brother with a record."

Grissom nodded and removed his glasses, "Gang-related shooting."

Sara huffed, "So why aren't we bringing him in for interrogation. Or getting a warrant to search his house?"

"Sara…only one thing ties him into this case. The symbol on the dagger and the bandana don't match his former gang. Right now, the only reason he's even called to question is because Benjamin Preston was his arresting officer."

"So? It's just as much evidence as those fingerprints Tara Reed left on the steering wheel!"

Grissom frowned. "Brass is already—"

"I don't believe this, Grissom! You say follow the evidence and now that the evidence points us in a different direction, you—"

"—Sara!"

She shook her head angrily and refused to meet his eyes.

"If you would have let me finish, you would have known that Brass is already out bringing Travis Reed in for questioning."

Though her frown didn't disappear, Sara met Grissom's gaze. "Sorry," she whispered.

Grissom's glare was disapproving. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I think it's best if I remove you from this case."

Her jaw dropped slightly, and her eyebrows automatically knitted together. "What?"

"It's for your own good, Sara." He repositioned his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and focused on his file again. "I don't know if it's whether you're relating this case to much, or if you just seem to think I'm heartless, but we obviously aren't getting anything done by working together."

"Neither, Grissom." Her voice dripped with bitterness, "I'm just trying to be objective and not _assume_ before I have all the facts."

He sighed and looked up, "I'm sorry, you can help Warrick, Nick, and Catherine on their decomp case. In the meantime, Greg would be enough assistance for me."

"Fine."

Grissom looked up from the lack of argument on Sara's part. "I'm sorry, Sara."

She stood up, void of all emotion. "Tara called the victim her soul mate—her intellectual equal." She paused, shaking her head at him in more of a disappointed than angry fashion. "I'm not relating the case to myself, Grissom. I was wrong when I once thought you were my soul mate; and you _obviously _don't see me as an equal."

She walked out without another word. Grissom realized how that's been happening a lot lately—she was always walking away from him.

And it was his fault.

* * *

Please review? Constructive criticism is very much welcome, too. Thanks for reading. :) 


	7. Chapter 7

**Update time. I say: bring on the angst. Hopefully, people are still interested in his story. Thank you to everyone that's reviewed. It's the kindest thing readers could do. :)**

**To grissomsgirl176: Sorry for the late reply to your pm. :(  
****

* * *

****Chapter 7**

"Shit."

Sara mumbled as she rolled out of bed.

Literally.

Her head felt like it had been pounded on with a set of drumsticks. She wobbled her way over to the bathroom and sighed as she saw her reflection in the mirror. 'God, I look like hell.' She gasped, 'Headache, urge to vomit…did I drink this morning?' She searched her brain frantically, waiting for the part that maintained memories to start functioning. Came home furious with Grissom, made some breakfast, and then…went to bed. No alcohol involved.

Sara let out a rancorous laugh. 'I know what's giving me a headache. Its name is Gil Grissom.'

Showering quickly and changing into a fresh outfit, she dashed her way out the door. Sara had a feeling she was going to have a bad night; she hadn't been late for work since god knows when. Usually, she was early—the only person who constantly beat her to work was Grissom. She frowned and snatched a flier off the front windshield of her car. Big bold letters stared back at her. _Need help in finding love? Call us at 1-800 695-4476. _

Sara scowled at the offending piece of paper. Crumpling it into a ball, she heaved it into a nearby bush. 'Who in their right minds would ask strangers for help with their love lives? Might as well have made the number 1-800 DESPERATE.' She snorted at her own joke, then realized that desperate was more than 7 letters. Still frowning, she hopped into her car, and just as she was about to put the car in reverse, she caught something in the corner of her eye.

Sighing, Sara quickly ran out and approached the bush warily. Snatching her litter from it, she retreated into her car once more, and tossed the balled up flier onto the passenger's seat.

'The night's already off to a bad start. Don't want to piss anyone off by littering now would I?' she thought, peeling onto the streets.

* * *

Judy was on the phone when the doors of the crime lab burst open. She paused momentarily in her conversation as a fuming Sara Sidle stormed by and stopped near her to clock in. As quickly as she came, she was gone again, heading toward the locker room. The voice on the phone startled her, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry ma'am, what was it you needed?" 

Nick jumped when the locker room doors swung open and a figure came sailing through. "Jesus, Sar…" Taking note on her appearance, he paused, "What happened to you?"

She shot him a warning glare, which was deadly enough to make Nick promptly shut his mouth. She thought her day was turning around when she arrived at CSI in time, but some bird had to rain on her parade—literally. One step out of her Denali, and she felt it: a giant _plop_ right on top of her head. Luckily she had a water bottle in handy, though it didn't do much for her hair. "Got your case notes on you?"

"What?" Nick asked, attention still focused on lacing his shoes.

Sara slammed her locker shut. "Case notes. I've been transferred…to your case—per Grissom's orders."

Nick looked up from his shoes, obviously confused. "Why would he do that? Sheriff wants to know what happened on your double homicide. It makes no sense to put you on our cold case," he scoffed.

Rolling her eyes, she headed for the door. "Since when does Grissom ever care about what the Sheriff wants?"

"Good point," Nick remarked as he followed her out to the break room. "Well, we could use a fresh set of eyes, I guess," he added glumly.

Sara sneered playfully, "Don't get all excited at once, Nick."

He laughed and nudged her in the ribs, which she playfully returned as they breezed into the break room where the rest of the team was already waiting.

"Updates?" Grissom said, getting right down to business.

Sara responded without a second's hesitation. "Did you interview the brother yet?"

"Yes."

"And?" Sara questioned, "What did you think of him?"

"Suspicious." She frowned as he turned away, addressing Catherine. "How's your case going?"

"That's the problem, it's not. We're going back to Garrison's house tonight, though. Hodges reexamined the fibers left on the vic. They were soaked in—get this—fixer." She stole a glance at Sara, "You look like shit, by the way."

"Thanks," Sara groused.

Grissom's eyebrow rose, "Not uncommon in a house of the photographer."

Nick nodded, "Yeah, and we never checked his dark room out back the other day. I'll go to Garrison's, Cath and Warrick can check out the wife's darkroom.

Grissom nodded, "Good, take Sara with you, Nick."

Warrick and Catherine exchanged confused glances as Nick nodded.

* * *

"I'm driving," Sara snapped as she and Nick stepped onto the parking lot. 

He grinned, "Whatever you want, doll."

She shot him a glare as she unlocked her car and hopped into the driver's seat. Nick followed suit on the passenger's side. As Sara backed out of her parking spot, Nick unfolded the crumpled paper that was embedding uncomfortably under is rear. He smirked as he read the crinkled flyer, "Getting desperate, Sar?"

She to see what had evoked that comment, and she frowned when her eyes landed on the flyer. Snatching it from his laughing form, she re-crumpled it and heaved it into the back seat—all with one hand. "It was on my wind-shield this evening," she said defensively.

"I'm sure it was," Nick grinned. "Ya' know, I _could_ still hook you up with one of my old friends."

"Not interested."

"Sure? He's in his mid-thirties; clean-cut pretty boy yet loves to take risks."

If Sara had been drinking water, she'd have surely choked. 'Good to know _some _guys still do,' she thought, her mind on a certain entomologist who wouldn't take a risk if it had bit him in the ass. She whipped her head over to the smug-looking Texan. "No. But thank you, Nick."

"Well, I know someone who's old, scruffy, and plays life safe if you prefer that."

She glared at him in the corner of her eye and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Thanks, but I know someone like that already. Believe me when I say he wouldn't be interested in me."

Nick's smug look disappeared when her words settled in. Glancing at Sara, he noticed the wistful expression that crossed her features as she gave her head a little shake. "Not all old, scruffy men are named Gil Grissom, Sara," he finally decided to say.

Without even looking at him, she replied, "I know. I wish they were."

* * *

The rest of the ride to Garrison's house was in silence. Nick stole glances at her discreetly, feeling his friends sorrow even when he had nothing to do with it. He thanked the heavens when they arrived at the scene and approached the dark room out back. Sara entered the room warily, squinting in the dim light. "Jesus, is this a shed or a mansion?" 

Nick entered behind her, "Whew…this dark room is _huge_."

Clicking on her mag-light, she scanned the items in the room. Five enlargers were stationed on the right, a sink with various trays of chemicals in the back along with two doors, and another three doors on the left. A table was in the middle of the room, and sitting on top of it was a Roda-trim and a paper cutter. Several cabinets were placed around the entrance, and Sara observed they were filled with chemicals. "This must be what a photographer's wet dream."

Nick sniffed the air, "Sara…" he drawled, nose held up high. "Do you smell that?"

She took a whiff and smirked, "Developer, stop-bath, fixer, hypo-clearing agent…_and_ a hint of decomp." Nick sighed and raised his brow at her. "Hundreds of chemicals can't hide the smell of human decomposition, much less a few."

He nodded in agreement as he opened one of the three doors to the right. Peering inside, he stated out loud, "Film loading room."

Before he could open the second door, Sara called out to him, "Nick. Come check his out."

He peered down at the edge of the table where her light was fixed on. "What is that?" Swabbing it quickly and dabbing it, a purple glow emerged. "Blood?"

Sara nodded, "Mostly likely your victims. Look at the discoloration," she said, refocusing her light on the table, "It's barely even red anymore; been there a while."

Nick scratched his chin. "So, do you think the boss killed the victim? He was in love with his wife, or at least having an affair with her."

"I don't know, you tell me, Nick. Does he seem like a guy who's capable of murder?" she asked wistfully.

"You mean…is he like Grissom?"

She paused in the middle of her search for evidence. "I could care less if he's like Grissom or not," she snapped, turning her back to him. "Why do you keep bringing him up anyways?" First it was in the break room in front of Warrick, Catherine, and Greg, then when they were in the car, and now when they're processing a scene. Sometimes Nick played the brother card a little too much—border lining teasing her and torturing her.

She flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said, spinning her around. "I'm sorry, Sara. I know what's going on or not going on between you and Grissom is none of my business." He gave her a small smile she could barely make out in the dark room lights. "But I just want to see you happy. What happened to the girl that used to flirt with me and call my shirt ugly names?"

"I still call your shirts ugly names—"

"—Sara…"

"She's still here, Nick."

Nick shook his head, "She in there somewhere, but none of us can see her anymore." He spun around, walking to the back of the room while scanning the floor. "Both you _and _Grissom have changed over the years."

Sara laughed, "Is this your way of saying you miss my flirting?"

He turned back, shining his light in her eyes, "Not a chance." He grinned, taking the seriousness out of the conversation. "But you do need to start getting out in the playing field again."

Sara frowned as she examined the contents inside the drawers under the first enlarger. "Stop trying to set me up with one of your buddies."

"Oh, I'm not," he replied as he opened one of the back doors. A stream of light filtered into the dark room. "I wouldn't put them through the torture," he quipped. Sara resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him as he entered the adjoining room. "Phew…smell's much stronger in here. Looks like our layout room," he semi-yelled, ensuring Sara would hear him. "Fully equipped with two dry-mount presses, several more paper cutters, and a dry rack," he rattled off.

"Okay, I'll finish searching here," she replied back. Walking around to left side of the room, she opened the second mystery door that Nick neglected. Flipping on the light switch, she realized it was a film developing room. It contained a long sink with various film-processing chemicals sitting on a shelf above it along with a film dryer in the corner. With no evidence available to the naked eye, she retreated back to the main room.

Sara gripped the doorknob of the last door, but before she could even turn it—it flew open on its own accord, slamming against her forehead. "Ugh," she grunted and staggered backwards.

"Sara?" she heard Nick call from the other room.

Before she could even reply, a flash of long blonde hair obstructed her already blurry vision. The person wearing the hair spun her around and grabbed a fistful of Sara's own brunette strands, slamming her into a tray of liquid. She tried to open her mouth to scream as whatever chemical her face was in burned her eyes, but ended up just gurgling some of the liquid into her mouth.

"Sar? You okay," Nick's voice filtered through, a little louder this time.

Her attacker must have realized he was getting closer as she felt her head being lifted from the tray. Sputtering the bitter liquid out of her mouth she yelled as loud as she could, "Nick!"

Sara felt her attacker pull her head back, and definitely felt it when she slammed it against the side of the table. The last thing she heard before blacking out was a definitive Texan voice shout, "Hey!"

* * *

"We meet again, Mr. Reed," Grissom addressed the 19 year old teenager. 

"Yo, man. I told you last time, ain't nobody call me _Mr. Reed. _It's Travis," he replied with a hard look, "that or T-bone."

"Technically, that's a double negative."

The boy stared back, clearly annoyed. "Why am I here again?"

"Because you killed Jacob Wright and Benjamin Preston," Brass replied, slowly pacing behind the seat Grissom occupied.

Travis chuckled, "That again? I told you where I was the night it happened. My friends can vouch for me, too."

"You mean your former gang-mates? I'm sure they'd back you up on anything you say…Travis."

Grissom smirked, "That's were you got the nickname T-bone right?" His smirk twisted into a frown when he felt his pocket vibrating. Without bothering to take his cell phone out, he stuck his hand in his pocket and stop the vibration.

"Man, this is bullshit! Ya'll got nothing on me."

"You were at Raphael's the night Officer Preston and Jacob were killed. With your _friends._" Grissom continued.

Brass turned on the television, the screen emulating the image. The store security camera showed their suspect with his pack of friends, swaggering toward the counter. "So? A man can't eat now?"

Grissom couldn't help but wear a smug look. "Here's what I think happened. You and your gang went into Raphael's on Wednesday night, as seen on the video. Then, just as you were placing an order, the phone rings. The cashier takes the call in front of you and places a delivery order for Benjamin Preston. _Officer _Benjamin Preston."

"Like I told you the first time, arresting officer or not, I don't know the guy," Travis spat.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't. But like all delivery orders, you need an address." Travis blinked, and Grissom took it as a sign to continue. He tilted his head toward the television, "What you're seeing now is you confronting Jake as he goes to make the delivery. My guess is…you were asking him for the address." Brass hit the stop button as the two teenagers on screen meandered out of the camera's view. "And that's when you walked him out to his car that's parked in the back of the store. And killed him."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"He wouldn't give you the address." Brass noted as Grissom slid a folder across the table. "CSI found Jacob Wright's blood drops in the parking lot."

"There was no splatter at Officer Preston's home. You killed Jake in the parking lot, drove to Officer Preston's house, and then planted the evidence, hoping to frame your sister. She was the last one to drive Jake's car, and you knew her prints would be everywhere." His phone vibrated again, and he silently cursed in his head, while effectively shutting off the vibration again. 'Doesn't Greg know I'm in the middle of an interrogation?' he thought vehemently.

Leaning forward to look Grissom in the eyes, he sneered. "I like to see ya'll prove that in court."

Grissom grinned, "Oh we will."

The kid just grinned back, "I want a lawyer."

Grissom exited the interrogation room, waving his goodbye to Brass as he headed back toward CSI. Whipping out his phone, he noticed it had two missed calls from Nick, as well as a voicemail. Ignoring it for the moment, he dialed. "Sanders," an agitated voice replied.

He was speed-walking down the halls, dodging many uniforms in the process. "Greg. I need all the evidence on the Preston-Wright case brought to my office immediately. Circumstantial or not. There's DNA pending, and several swabs still in Trace." Not hearing a reply, he frowned. "Greg? Did you get that?"

"I—I can't, Grissom," his voice filtered through.

"What?"

"I'm on my way to the hospital."

He pulled his phone back a little to stare at it in confusion, "Hospital? Why?"

He stopped dead in his tracks at Greg's response. "It's Sara. Something's happened."

* * *

TBC... 

**Next chapter will hopefully be up soon. Review please?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Weee! Another chapter! I tried my best to proofread and finish this one quickly. Thank you to all those that reviewed; it is totally motivating me to keep writing! Anyway, some more angst for everyone…**

**Hopefully it's not too cliche. :)

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**

**Chapter 8**

The waiting room was packed with families. A group of nine sat in huddled in the corner, waiting for information on a family member who suffered a heart attack. A distraught housewife was a few chairs away, holding her son's hand and waiting for news on his father. A man in his mid-forties along with his wife were pacing around the room, asking any doctor that walked in for an update on their daughter.

In the chairs closest to the ICU doors, Catherine Willows sat next to Warrick Brown. She had a cup of coffee in her left hand, while her cheek rested on her right. Feeling an arm drape across the back of her chair, she turned to the figure next to her. He was staring down at his shoes; his free hand in his lap. Removing her hand from her face, she placed it on his thigh, giving it a little pat.

Greg Sanders paced all around the room. He never liked sitting still, especially when he was scared or nervous. And that's exactly why he kept his feet moving now. He was scared for his friend, his mentor, his colleague. From what he heard, it was a bump on the head, and a dose of chemical contact—hardly considered deadly in most cases—but any harm, whether it be a gunshot would or a paper cut had him worried.

Nick Stokes stood with his back against a wall, staring into space with glossy eyes. Many emotions ran through him. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. Fear.

"_Hey!" he yelled at blonde that was running for the door as he entered the main room. Withdrawing his gun, he yelled again, "Hold it!"_

He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head hit the wall.

_The figure dashed out the door before he could even think of squeezing the trigger. Maneuvering around the table to pursuit the attacker, he caught a glimpse of brunette hair. "Shit. Sara!"_

Blinking rapidly, Nick pushed off against the wall as a doctor entered the room. He watched in dismay as the family of nine stood up to greet the man in scrubs. Retreating back to the hard surface for back support, he continued to stare at the ICU doors.

_Re-holstering his firearm, he slid and knelt in front of her. She was unconscious, and he hastily pressed his fingers to her neck, fumbling over the slick liquid dripping from her face. Sighing in relief as he found a pulse, he whipped out is cell, calling for backup. "This is Nick Stokes, I need an ambulance sent to my coordinates now!"_

"Nick!" a voice jarred him of his thoughts. His eyes opened to see his supervisor rush through the doors, his face demanding an answer. "What happened? Where's Sara?"

Catherine stood and intercepted his path, "The doctors are checking on her now."

His blue eyes darted to meet Nick's, "What happened?"

The younger CSI opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wasn't like Grissom; he felt weak—he couldn't be unemotional. While he knew Grissom did have feelings and emotions, he also envied the fact that his supervisor could mask them almost completely. No tears were slipping out of Nick's eyes, but they were there, slowly pooling up and blurring his vision. He almost chuckled at the fact that Catherine—who was a woman—wasn't close to tearing up, but he was. Even Greg, who was obviously more of a pansy, had somewhat dry eyes. Nick turned away from Grissom's cool glare. "It's my fault."

He felt a hand land on his shoulder the same time he blinked, causing a few drops to spew forward. "It's not your fault, man," Warrick said with a serious glare.

"Nick," Grissom began as he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, fist tightening around his car keys. "I need you to tell me what happened."

"We were processing the darkroom," he started, avoiding his supervisor's glare. "We found some evidence, talked…and then I went into an adjoining room." He took a deep breath, "I was _so_ focused on tape-lifting a fingerprint, and I wasn't really paying much attention to anything else." Grissom felt his heart pound harder as Nick continued. "I heard a noise and called her name…at least I think I did?"

He stopped, not knowing how to continue. Along with the pressure of Warrick's hand on his left shoulder, he suddenly felt a smaller force on his right. Turning to meet Catherine's understanding nod, he continued, "It all happened so fast. The next thing I know…I hear Sara scream my name, and I see her attacker run out before I could even do anything. Grissom…I—I could have had her…I should have chased after her." He paused. "I should've _shot _her!" he added angrily, tears forming again.

"You helped Sara, Nicky," he replied as stoically as possible.

Nick inhaled deeply and blinked rapidly. "She was just lying there, unconscious. There were chemicals all over her…I didn't know what to do," he stammered and averted his eyes to the ceiling. "I—I just waited for the sirens."

Grissom let out a sigh. "You stayed with her," he nodded.

"I—"

"—Excuse me." The five CSIs turned in the direction of the voice. An Asian man who looked like he was in his mid-forties approached them. He wore a clean white coat, and held a clipboard in this hand—his face conveying an unreadable expression. As he approached, he looked somewhat like a dwarf, especially next to Warrick—a dwarf with small beady eyes. "Are you folks here for a Miss Sara Sidle?"

Grissom stepped forward, "Yes, we're her co-workers."

"Friends," Nick corrected from behind Grissom. "We're here friends."

The doctor nodded, "And are any of you Gil Grissom?"

"That would be me."

"Miss Sidle has you listed as her emergency contact."

Grissom gave a slight nod, "She has no relatives here in Vegas; I'm her supervisor."

If we may—I'd like to speak to you about her condition."

"Any information on Sara's condition can be said in front of all of us," Nick stated, crossing his arms in front of him in a defiant stance.

The doctor looked at Grissom, "In situations like this, I prefer—"

"—Excuse me doctor, but I'm sure he won't mind if you say whatever it is you need to say right here and now," Catherine interjected, jerking her thumb at the 'emergency contact.'

Grissom merely gave his head a nod. They were family. Catherine had once told him that whether he liked it or not, people were forming a family around him. And although he never truly understood her words at the time, now it seemed crystal clear in light of the situation. Sara was hurt—the depth of her injuries still unknown—and every member of the family is waiting for news on her.

Warrick and Nick were the older brothers, always watching out for her. Greg was the youngest, always annoying Sara and asking questions every minute. He and Catherine could be the parents? After all, they _were _older in age and most experienced—always watching over the rest of the CSIs. However, he cringed at the slightest thought of being Sara's father. No, that won't do. '_Brass _and Catherine could be the parents,' he thought. 'I can be the scumbag boyfriend that the rest of the family disapproves of.' Shaking away his thoughts, he focused on the doctor in front of him, who was already updating them on Sara's condition.

"—6 stitches. She may have a minor concussion, but it's not anything to be concerned about. There doesn't seem to be long term effects, other than one hell of a headache when she wakes up. We have her on morphine—to dull the pain." Grissom as well as the other CSIs let out a sigh of relief. But before they got their hopes entirely up, the good doctor continued. "However…" he paused, unsure how to proceed with explaining the dilemma. "The problem is the chemicals that came in contact with her face—especially her eyes. Photo paper developer usually isn't lethal when coming in contact with the human eye, but the extent of time Miss Sidle was exposed to it may affect the variables."

Catherine gasped.

Nick, Warrick, and Greg exchanged glances.

Grissom felt his heart constrict.

"The chances of Miss Sidle having permanent damage to her corneas are rare," the doctor reassured. "I just wanted to explain every little possibility. She's actually fortunate that it was developer and not stop bath." Grissom squinted his eyes slightly at him. "I do a lot of photography on the side," the doctor explained. "The chemicals in the stop bath burn the retinas and can cause permanent blindness."

"So let me get this straight," Nick stated. "You said chances of permanent eye damage are rare—but possible. What about in Sara's case?"

The doctor sighed, "I won't be able to tell until she wakes up. And considering her head trauma and the dosage of morphine, it may take a while.

Greg, who had been relatively quiet since Grissom arrived, stepped forward. "May we see her?"

"I don't see why not. She's in A21—down the hall to the right. Just…" his eyes darted around the group, "Only a couple at a time."

Grissom nodded as his eyes settled on the nametag resting on the man's chest. "Thank you, Doctor Shen."

He nodded politely at the group before retreating through the ICU doors. Nick let out a long sigh, "Who wants to go first?"

Catherine scoffed, "A couple can mean _ten_ people depending on the situation." She headed for the doors leading into the ICU hallway. "Are you guys just going to stand there or what?"

Warrick raised his brows and followed her, prompting Nick and Greg to do the same with Grissom trailing several feet behind. The group meandered through the halls, ignoring the looks some nurses were giving them. They entered her room quietly, not wanting to disturb her sleep. Grissom lingered by the door as everyone else crowded around her bed. 'Thank God the ICU rooms were pretty spacious, or we wouldn't be able to breathe, much less all fit in here.' After examining the room, Grissom's eyes settled on the form lying peacefully on the white sheets. Her arms were on top of the matching white blanket; she had tubes hooked up to her wrists, leading to several IV bags; and her head was wrapped in white gauze.

"She looks peaceful," Greg said, breaking the silence.

Catherine snorted. "You better be glad she's not awake. She'll probably take it as an insult." Humor was one of Catherine's many defense mechanisms.

Nick scooted a chair over by her bedside. He grasped her hand, giving it a little squeeze.

Taking a step closer, Grissom noticed her eyes were swollen, even when closed. Her eyelids looked red, as if she had gotten a rash there. Focusing on Nick's hand softly stroking hers, he realized that all he wanted to do was kiss the redness on her eyes away, but even a simple gesture like holding her hand would be inappropriate coming from him.

"It's not your fault, man," Warrick said for the second time. He patted his friends back as Nick hung his head low—eyes glazing over again.

"It's mine."

Four pairs of eyes darted to the voice in the corner. Grissom cleared his throat, joining the rest of them around the bed. "Gil…"

He raised his left hand to silence Catherine, and then addressed Nick. "I should have never put her on your case." Nick broke eye-contact with him, clenching his jaw. Grissom, like Nick, let his gaze settle on Sara. "There are probably a lot of things I shouldn't have done when it concerns her."

His team was silent—knowing this was some important revelation when it came to him and Sara. Catherine opened her mouth to reply, only to promptly shut it again. He let out a sigh just as the door swung open. "Hey," Brass nodded at the group, quietly shutting the door. "I heard what happened. Rumors are flying down at PD…someone want to fill me in?" he asked as he took notice of the large gauze around Sara's head.

"Suspect came back to the scene," Warrick practically huffed. "_Two months _after the crime."

Brass' face scrunched up, "No kidding." He sighed, the concern evident. "She gonna be ok?"

"Doctor doesn't know the extent of her injuries, but it's nothing critical," Grissom responded. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Near-death or not, he didn't want to witness Sara suffering at all. She stirred up emotions in him he never thought he had. His heart beats faster when she's around, it beats slower when she leaves, and now it feels like someone's rubbing a dull knife inside the ventricles.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to look at his friend. "And how are you holding up, Gil?"

"I'm okay," he replied slowly.

"Are you?" Grissom gave him the sad 'no, but leave me alone' look. Brass took it as a sign to back off. "I hate to do this…but I got Garrison and the victim's wife down at PD."

Nick shook his head and stated adamantly, "I'm not leaving until she wakes up."

Everyone's gaze fell upon Grissom. He sighed, "Warrick, Catherine…go with Brass to question the wife again." Seeing their defiant glares, he added firmly, "We're still on the clock, and your case is still an open investigation. Shift ends in a couple hours; you can come back after interviewing the wife."

Though they didn't like it, Catherine and Warrick nodded, heading out the door along with Brass.

"Nick…"

"Don't, Grissom."

"I need you to question Garrison."

Nick huffed, "Is that an order?"

"It's a request." Grissom sighed again, "From your friend; not your supervisor." Nick shook his head as Grissom continued. "I want to help Sara just as much as you do, and in order to do that, we have to find out who her attacker was. Garrison should know who else had access to his darkroom."

Nick stood up, reluctantly letting go of Sara's hand. Muttering a "see you later" to Greg, he headed out, briefly glancing at Grissom as he passed by.

Grissom clenched his jaw; lips puckering as if he was in agony. He addressed his last CSI in the room. "Greg, I need you to go over the evidence on our Preston-Wright case. There's still swabs in DNA and Trace. Cumulate all the evidence that can be used in court against Travis Reed."

Greg—being the newest CSI—decided it would be wise to obey the supervisor without question. He merely nodded and left, leaving Grissom alone with Sara. Settling down on the chair Nick had previously vacated, he let his eyes travel up her body. He had many emotions running through him at that precise moment, but the dominant one was guilt. _He _was the reason she was attacked; _he _transferred her to the case, and no matter what anyone believes or says—he felt that it was ultimately his fault.

"I'm sorry," Grissom whispered, more for himself than for the woman lying in bed. Tentatively, he lifted his hand from his lap. He let it hover over hers for a moment, wanting so much to just squeeze it and never let go. After a deep internal debate, his hand retracted back toward his midsection, resting on his thigh.

Grissom closed his eyes for a moment, slumping back into the chair.

He thought of Sara.

Sara walking away from him; Sara pinned beneath him; Sara calling out his name. She controlled his thoughts—his feelings—which ironically is the reason he was so afraid to get close to her. She continued to call his name, and he suddenly jerked upright. Opening his eyes, he realized that she was indeed _calling _his name.

"Grissom…"

He immediately woke up, blinking at her. As the blurriness of sleep went away, he was surprised to find her eyes were still shut. He leaned forward in his chair a bit. "Sara?" Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to find that over an hour had passed since he fell asleep.

Her eyelids slowly lifted, and what was hidden beneath them took the breath out of his lungs. "Gris…som?"

"You're awake."

"What are you doing here?" she said in a raspy whisper, turning her head slightly to look in his direction. "What am _I _doing here?"

Her eyes were bloodshot. Grissom's jaw fell slightly at the sight as he saw more red than white in them. Not only were they red, but they were puffy and swollen, protruding out like they were stung by bees. "Do you remember what happened?

"Crime scene. I opened—a door opened, and I hit my head.

Grissom tilted his head in a nod. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as Sara avoided making eye contact with him, choosing instead to stare at his chest. Was she mad at him still? Did she blame him? "You did a little more than just hit your head," he said softly.

She rolled her head back, staring at the ceiling. Grissom noticed her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, almost like she was trying to figure out the story behind a piece of evidence. "Did you get the suspect? I think she's blonde." She wheezed slightly, then coughed—causing her hands to immediately grasp her head.

Without thinking Grissom grabbed her wrist, "Honey, stop…" He paused, a little taken aback at his slip in affection. "Is your throat dry?" he asked, distracting her thoughts. "From what Nick's told me, it could be a possibility that you swallowed some photo developer. Harmful chemicals could be in your system."

"A little."

"I'll get you some water," he replied. Grissom stood up and walked to the other side of her bed, pouring her a cup from the pitcher resting on the bed-side table. She didn't look at him, instead remaining focused on the chair he vacated.

"Grissom, where am I?"

Settling the pitcher back down on the table, he raised an eyebrow. "Desert Palms."

Her head whipped around at his reply, "Hospital?"

Just before he was about to reply, he noticed Sara staring at the door. Now it was Grissom's turn to furrow his brows at her in confusion. He turned and looked behind him to see if there was anyone there. Confirming that no nurse or doctor had come in, he turned back to Sara. His eyebrow rose automatically back up in thought. "Yeah…" he replied slowly, shifting the cup of water to his dominant hand.

Her eyes were still focused on the doorway. Something wasn't right.

Sara frowned, "Well…if we're in a hospital, do you mind turning on the lights?"

* * *

TBC…

**So thisended upbeing another 'injury' fic. Hopefully it doesn't turn out to be too predictable. Hit the 'Go' and let me know what you think. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ugh, sorry for the dreadfully long-awaited update. I'm having trouble reality and my two fics. The next chapter of "Promise Not To Tell" will hopefully be up soon. Oh, and is anyone else having trouble continuing their "not-in-a-relationship-yet" stories now that GSR is canon? Maybe it's just me.**

**Thanks for the reviews, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. :)**

**P.S. Sorry for the horrendous page breaks. The one on the document editor dpesn't seem to be working**

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**Chapter 9**

"Grissom?"

Grissom's eyes widened and his jaw dropped the same time as he recoiled away from Sara. He looked up at the ceiling, almost wishing the rows of lights weren't shining brightly. He took a step forward and waved his hand directly in front of Sara's eyes.

Nothing.

Not even a blink.

The cup of water he was gripping ever so tightly suddenly dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Grissom!" Sara called out weakly again, this time a hint of panic in her voice. "What's going on?" He didn't know why all of a sudden he was a mute, but he couldn't bring himself to reply as his brain continued to assess the situation. Suddenly, Sara's hand shot up to blindly reach for him. "Grissom? Are you there?" The panic in her voice was deeper now—enough to bring him out of his daze.

Very uncharacteristically, he lunged forward and snatched her hand. "Sara. Sara—I'm here," he reassured her, the panic in his own voice refusing to remain hidden no matter how hard he tried.

"What's going on?" she asked again, touching her head with her free hand. "What kind of room am I in?"

Grissom stared at her with a look of pain as she sat up a little in her bed and looked around—squinting. That's a good sign, right? At least she could sit up. "Sara, I need to call the doctor."

As he moved away, her hand suddenly squeezed his. He pushed the red call button next to her head as he saw realization dawn on her facial features. "My eyes are burning."

"I need a doctor in here!" Grissom said forcefully into the speakers.

Sara ripped her hand away from his. He watched helplessly as tears began to flood her blood-red eyes. "The lights are on…aren't they?"

"Sara…" he reached for her hand again, only to have her tear it away again.

"Stop it, Grissom!" she coughed as he tried to calm her down. "I can't see, can I!"

He was again rendered speechless, realizing that whatever the situation might be—Sara always had that effect on him. Grissom was saved, though, as the doors burst open and Doctor Shen trotted in. "What's going on…" He looked from Grissom to Sara. "How are you feeling, Ms. Sidle?"

Her head snapped in his direction, but her eyes didn't land anywhere near him. "You're a doctor right? You tell me."

Doctor Shen's eyes widened a bit as he approached her. "I'd like you to sit back, Sara." She did as she was told—more out of exhaustion then to obey orders. "Don't be alarmed, I'm going to check your pupils." Sara nodded mutely as she felt fingers land on her eyelids. "Do you see any light, Sara?"

She shook her head.

Doctor Shen frowned when her pupils didn't dilate at all. He clicked off his light and looked over at Grissom, giving his head a quick shake. "Sara, I'm going to have a talk with Mr. Grissom. We'll be right outside the door."

She looked ready to argue; her face set with a furious look. But as Sara opened her mouth to protest, a tired sigh came out instead. She groaned and laid back on her pillow, resignation written all over her face accompanied with pain. Grissom's heart ached at the sight as he followed the doctor outside the door.

Dr. Shen cleared his throat. "I'm not going to lie to you. It doesn't look good." Grissom pursed his lips and raised his eyes to meet the doctor's. "I'll order some tests to be run on her, but the fact that her pupils didn't respond means that her corneas are damaged. If they were burned by the photo chemicals—surgical repair wouldn't be effective."

"She'll be blind…" Grissom stated more than questioned.

"Permanently," Dr. Shen replied with sad nod.

Grissom closed his eyes for a brief second and murmured a "thank you." As he turned back toward Sara's room, Dr. Shen placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

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Sarah Shelby didn't look annoyed.

Catherine and Warrick remained quiet as the staring contest continued between the CSIs and the brunette woman that was presumably in her late thirties—waiting patiently for her lawyer to arrive. Brass paced behind the two CSIs, twiddling his thumbs while his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

"Forget it. I'll talk without my lawyer."

Brass stopped in his tracks and both Catherine and Warrick leaned forward a bit. "This is your choice, for the record?" Catherine asked.

She nodded, "Like I told you the last time, I have nothing to hide."

Warrick gave a nod back, "Okay then." He opened the file in front of him. "Mrs.—Ms. Shelby, where were you yesterday around midnight? About six hours ago."

"At home. Reading in bed."

Catherine and Warrick exchanged looks. "Really?" the blonde CSI asked. "Because my colleague and I arrived at your house around that time, and no one was home."

She shifted in her seat, "I must not have heard the doorbell."

Warrick huffed, "Do you know how the law works Ms. Shelby? We aren't allowed to search your premises without a warrant, unless you give us permission. I find it interesting that your boss has allowed us full access to everything he owns—even staying at a hotel for the duration of this case—while you won't even allow us to examine your front lawn without a warrant."

"You already served me a warrant. You searched my house, you didn't find anything!" she shot back.

"Maybe," Catherine interrupted, "But this time we needed to search your darkroom out back. It is interesting how you didn't hear the doorbell, though."

Sarah shook her head, "It's not like I knew you guys were coming to search my darkroom." At Warrick and Catherine's glare, she slapped her palm forcefully on the table. "_Look…_" she rose in her seat, "I've answered your questions. I've let you search my house. And fine, if you'd like—search my darkroom! Dig up my lawn for all I care! I had _nothing_ to do with Greg's disappearance or death!" Her eyes began to glaze over and she looked from the CSIs to the detective sitting behind them. "I _did _love him."

Catherine's mouth twisted in thought, "Since when did it become a sign of love to cheat?"

"I said I loved him. I didn't say I was _in love _with him."

"Riiight," Catherine replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Sarah scowled at the blonde, "Look, don't judge me when you don't understand the situation."

A light bulb suddenly went off in Catherine's head. "Okay, let's just say I believe you…Sarah. You really didn't hear the doorbell." She clucked her tongue, "But you'll have to give me something better than reading a book in bed. I don't buy that."

Once again, Sarah Shelby shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Brass spoke up from his corner, "Look, you know what, who cares what she says? Whether she's telling the truth or not, it will never be a legitimate alibi."

"I wasn't alone."

Warrick furrowed his brows while Catherine smirked. "Garrison was there, wasn't he?"

She nodded, only making eye contact with the table.

"And what? You two were too 'busy' to hear the doorbell?" Brass questioned.

"You make us sound like criminals," Sarah replied, shaking her head. "Yes, we were…physically engaged. Is that against the law now, too?"

Warrick pursed his lips, "No, but it doesn't look good for you. Especially after your husband died."

"Garri was trying to comfort me."

Catherine scoffed, "And he couldn't do that with his clothes on?"

"You know what? I'm done with this," Sarah said, standing up. "If you have any _important _questions to ask me, you know where to find me."

Warrick stood up and blocked the door, "A CSI was attacked in _Garri's _darkroom." Sarah stopped in front of him as he glared at her. "Look, right now I can care less on who killed your husband, but if you _are _telling the truth, then the only two people that have access to Garrison's darkroom are eliminated as suspects."

Warrick took a breath as Catherine appeared by his side, "So tell us, who else had access to his darkroom?"

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Nick took a breath as he breezed into the interrogation room. Sofia gave him a nod as he eyed the scruffy middle-aged man sitting across from him. His brown hair was already dominated mostly by grey, and his beard looked unkempt—like he hasn't shaved for days. The first time he had interviewed Garrison, he immediately saw the resemblance the suspect had to a certain entomologist he knew. This time was no different. He shook his head as he took a seat across from him, next to Sofia. She nodded and hit the tape recorder. "Gus Garrison, this is Nick Stokes."

Nick waved his hand absentmindedly, "We've met."

Garrison sighed, "So what's different now?"

Nick cleared his throat, "You stated you don't want your lawyer present is that correct?"

"I have nothing to hide," he said with a nod. "So what's this about? I already gave you guys the keys to my home for the duration of this case. I want whoever did this to Greg caught…Sarah is devastated."

"Where were you last night?" Nick interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

Sofia glanced at the CSI, surprised by his cold demeanor. "Around midnight," she clarified.

"At my hotel," he said with a shrug.

Nick chuckled bitterly, "Don't lie…I appreciate the fact you availed your home to our lab, but you _aren't _staying at a hotel." He slid a sheet of paper across the table, "Hotel records indicate that you are paying for a room this week, but not _once _have you checked into it."

Garrison furrowed his brow at the paper, and then looked up. "I'm staying with Sarah," he said as stoically as possible.

Sofia nodded, "So you—"

"—Look," Nick interrupted, resting his elbows in front of him. "I really don't give a rat's ass about your little affair with the victim's wife."

Sofia shook her head, "Nick—"

"—A CSI was attacked in _your _darkroom last night. Your house was never a crime scene, and you gave us full access to it; which is _why _there were no officers present! Now tellme who would attack a law enforcement employer in a secure house—_your _secure house."

Garrison's mouth dropped, "I—I don't know."

Nick pulled back, "If you had anything to do with it…"

"I didn't! I was with Sarah last night at her place—I've been staying with her ever since she found out about Greg. I had nothing to do with this!" Garrison stammered as he took a deep breath.

Sofia shot Nick a disapproving look before speaking up, "Let's say we believe you. Who else would have access to your darkroom?"

Garrison thought for a moment, "The only person besides me who uses that darkroom is Sarah." He held up his hand, "And _believe _me when I said she didn't have anything to do with this. Other than that…Sophie has a key, but she's rarely in there."

"Sophie?"

Garrison nodded, "Sophia Ali Cattaneo."

"This 'Sophie,' she has a key to your darkroom?" Nick questioned.

"Yeah, but never uses it," Garrison replied. "Sophie's been my maid for years. Photography requires a lot of traveling—I pay her to clean and watch my house when I'm away. She only goes into the darkroom to change or restock the chemicals."

Nick's eyebrows rose, "What color is her hair?"

Garrison pursed his lips, "Blonde. But what does that have to do with anything?"

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Warrick and Catherine sped walk through the PD corridors, only to bump into Nick as he burst out of another interrogation room.

"Sophie," the three said in unison.

Nick shook his head, "How did we miss that? How did he not mention it before?" He huffed and juggled the files in his arms, twisting his arm to look at the time.

Shift was officially over twenty minutes ago. Warrick and Catherine shared and look before the blonde spoke up. "Warrick and I will follow the lead; Brass is already out finding her as we speak. Go see her," she said with a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she jerked her head toward the exit.

Nick nodded at Warrick who grinned and nodded back. "Thanks Cath," he said with a small smile before heading for the exit.

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Sara heard the door creak open as well as soft footsteps padding closer toward her. "Don't lie to me," she spoke as sharply as she can with her dry throat.

Silence was her only response.

"Grissom, I know you're here. I'm blind aren't I?"

"Yes," came his soft response.

She sat up a bit, squinting as much as possible, but the darkness continued to envelope her. Her eyes continued to sting as she barely felt the tears until she realized her cheeks were damp. Life wasn't fair. Twenty some odd years ago, while cowering behind the kitchen counter, she would have given up her eyesight willingly. But God chose to take it away from her now, after she's seen hell and then some.

"Can they fix it?"

Even without her eyesight, she sensed Grissom nearby, hovering but not touching. "They're going to run some tests," came his response. After a long pause, he added, "But it's unlikely surgery will correct it."

Sara nodded.

Suddenly she felt warmth cover her hand, and frowned when she looked down to where her hand rested. Grissom gave it a little squeeze and surprisingly held it there.

"Leave."

His grip suddenly loosened, though his hand remained on hers. "Sara…"

She jerked her hand away, "I said _leave._"

"I can help you, Sar—"

"—_Leave!_"

She heard the chair scrape against the floor as it was pushed back. The same soft footsteps that came through the door earlier she now heard retreating slowly.

She heard the door click shut.

Lying in what she assumed was complete darkness and seclusion, she cried.

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**Please review and tell me what you think? Thank you to everyone that does; it means a lot.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone. Well, it's been a month and twelve days since my last update, but I got a PM the other day from anneruhland that motivated me to finish this chapter I've been working on. Thanks for the kind words, and I'm sorry to everyone who has been waiting for an update. I promise to update sooner from now on. I hope I didn't lose too many loyal readers and reviewers. :)**

**Anyway…time for me to head back to the lab at school. Reality sucks sometimes--who can guess what my major is:P But yeah, spare the time to review and give feedback? They are greatly appreciated. :)

* * *

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**Chapter 10 **

Words couldn't describe how Grissom felt at the moment. He knew she asked to be alone, but for some reason, he didn't want to leave. He clicked the door shut, knowing Sara would think he left when in reality he stood watching her. She was opening crying now—her hands swiping her eyes frantically. Grissom clenched his jaw as her cries finally subdued and her eyelids drooped down.

He quietly made his exit.

As he trudged toward the waiting room, he saw a familiar face arguing with the receptionist. "Look, I _just _saw her a couple hours ago, and you said visitors were allowed!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," the lady replied, "Miss Sidle is due shortly for some tests, after those…_then_ you can visit her."

"Tests? What—"

"—Nick."

He turned and came face to face with Grissom. "Gris, what the hell is going on?"

Grissom grinded his teeth and cocked his head at the row of cushiony seats, "Have a seat, and I'll fill you in."

Nick scoffed in annoyance but willingly obeyed. The two men plopped down next to each other. "Okay, spill…what's going on? What tests are they going to run?"

Grissom bit his tongue for a moment, battling between whether to tell Nick or not, but he knew that if he was in Nick's position, he'd want to know the truth too. "Sara can't see," he said as emotionlessly as possible.

"What can't she see?" Nick huffed in disbelief.

"Everything and anything."

The color drained from Nick's face as he stood up abruptly. He rubbed his face, "She's blind?"

Silence.

The younger CSI eyed his supervisor. "But—she came into contact with developer, not the stop bath."

"Her corneas are too damaged for surgical repair," Grissom said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm guessing the time between first contact and treatment was too long."

Nick kicked his chair violently, causing half the people in the waiting room to look in their direction. "I should have—" He paused and collected himself, "—I should have gotten her to a hospital quicker."

"Nicky—listen to me," Grissom stood up to maintain eye level with him. "I need you to keep your head. This wasn't your fault; you are a good CSI and a good friend to her." Nick shook his head and tried to pull away, but Grissom gripped his arm tightly, "You did the right thing."

His gripped loosened, and Nick nodded frantically with watery eyes. "Yeah...right," he whispered before heading toward the men's room.

* * *

"Sophie, don't answer that."

Sophia Ali Cattaneo nodded at her lawyer's advice. Brass practically growled, "Hey…that's fine. You don't have to answer. Just know that if you don't, you'll be charged with assault and battery and maybe even murder."

The lawyer snorted, "Based on what evidence?"

"Witness can place her at the scene of the attack. And we have strong forensic evidence to nail her for the murder of Gregory Shelby," Brass rattled off. "So, what's it gonna be?"

The blonde shook her head, "Okay fine, I'll cop to attacking the CSI. But I didn't kill Greg."

"I see," Brass said as he felt his hand unconsciously clench into a fist. "And for _what _reason did you attack CSI Sidle for?"

"She startled me. She wasn't supposed to be there."

"_Startled _you?" he snarled in disbelief. "And why were _you _there?"

Sophie shrugged, "I'm Gus's maid. I restock the chemicals for him."

Catherine and Warrick—who both were watching in the observation room with interest—decided it was a good time to walk in. Catherine nodded at Brass, then coldly addressed the other two people in the room, "I'm Catherine Willows, this is Warrick Brown," she explained, gesturing to Warrick. "We're from the crime lab."

Sophie shook her head. "Great…more CSIs," she muttered.

Catherine huffed at her, "Yeah…that's right. And you know what CSIs do?" She paused and stared the other blonde down, "They put away conniving little murderers like you."

Warrick flipped open his file, "Since you already admitted to attacking CSI Sidle, then I'll get straight to explaining how you committed murder."

The lawyer squirmed in his seat as Sophie glanced at him. Warrick pursed his lips and slid a photo across the table. "After the attack on one of our CSIs, my colleague and I went back to process Garrison's darkroom. We found this in the adjoining layout room," he said, pointing at the picture of the moss green bin.

Sophie averted her eyes, deciding to remain silent.

"You want to know what we found on it?" Catherine added. After a brief paused, she slid two other sheets of paper across the table. "Victim's blood. And your fingerprints."

"Sophie is in that darkroom all the time. Her fingerprints could have gotten there from a number of reasons," the lawyer shot back.

Catherine smirked, "True. But the fingerprint found on the latch of the bin was unique. It was imprinted _in _Mr. Shelby's DNA. His decomposed liquid—if you want to be specific."

"What's the matter?" Warrick asked accusingly. "Didn't know a body could start to smell that bad? Even in a sealed bin?"

"I had no choice!" the blonde said in a raging outburst.

"Sophie, be quiet," the lawyer demanded.

"No, let her talk," Brass said as he cocked his head at her, shooting daggers with his eyes.

"I was his maid for _nine_ years; I gave up nine years of my life to him!" She leaned forward, hands balled into fists. "And then _she _had to come along…I had to watch them flirt back and forth—not knowing what was going on when they went on trips." Catherine shook her head at her and met Warrick's eyes. She continued her rant, "Then, because he couldn't risk being with her, she got married! I thought it would end, but noooo…they have a godforsaken affair!"

"Why kill her husband, though?" Catherine asked. "Why give her a reason to be with Garrison?"

"I wasn't supposed to kill Greg, he got in the way," she huffed. "Sarah was the one who was supposed to pick up Garrison's portfolio while he was in Hawaii. I swung before I looked."

Catherine and Warrick stood up as Brass began to read her rights out.

"It's not fair! I loved him first; he's supposed to be mine!"

Warrick and Catherine exited, both shaking their heads in disbelief. "If the lawyer's smart, he'd have her plead insanity."

Catherine shook her head again. "I don't know whether she's in-sane or in-love."

"That is _not_ love," Warrick said as he shot her a disbelieving glance. He let out a breath, "We should consider ourselves lucky that our resident 'Sofia' isn't that psycho."

"Well Detective Curtis doesn't have a thing for Grissom."

Warrick scoffed, "If you say so."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Miss Sidle."

After a series of tests, Sara was once again in her hospital bed, hand braced on the railing. She gave a single nod in the direction of the doctor, "I want to be discharged."

Dr. Shen frowned at her, and then stupidly remembered she couldn't see him. "Well, that's one possibility, but I wouldn't advise it before you get a caretaker."

"I don't need a caretaker!" she barked, causing the good doctor to take a step back.

He scribbled down a prescription, before replying. "I know this is hard for you Sara, but I can't discharge you unless I know you have someone to take care of you at home." Before she could reply, he stated quickly, "I think your friends want to see you."

He scurried out the door before Sara could even gather her thoughts, only to have it reopened as Grissom and Nick strode in. "Hey Sar…" Nick was immediately at her side.

She lied back down and turned away.

"Sara…I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Nick," she replied lightly. "_You_ didn't put me on the case." Grissom visibly winced. Though he could completely understand her resentment toward him, it was still a low-blow. Her face suddenly fell, "I'm sorry…don't tell Grissom I said that."

Grissom scrunched his forehead in confusion as Nick looked at him, then back at Sara. It dawned on Grissom that she obviously didn't know he was there. Before Nick could say anything, he silenced him with a finger to his mouth. The younger man gave him a look of protest, knowing it was wrong to lie to Sara like that. But then again, she never asked if he was there; it wouldn't technically be lying—more like bending the truth. "Nick? Don't tell Grissom…"

He sighed, "I won't. Promise."

Once again, not a complete lie.

Sara suddenly began to tear up again. "Nick, this…_sucks_!" she said, unable to be eloquent at the moment.

He sat on the edge of her bed and brought her into his arms. Grissom stood by the door; he got the feeling that Nick completely forgot he was even there. "I know…but hey, you're one of the strongest women—" Seeing her shift and send a glare at him, he corrected, "—one of the strongest _people_ I know. And you're not alone, okay?"

"Yeah? Says who?" she sniffed.

Nick scoffed playfully at her, "Says me. I don't know about your family, Sara. And honestly it doesn't matter, because _we _all love you. Catherine and Warrick are out finding who did this to you. Brass is with them—he's mad as hell, but he's going to find her. Greg—that boy is like a lost puppy right now, he's scared for you. And Grissom…"

Grissom looked up into Nick's determined eyes, sending him a warning glare. "Well, we_ all _know how much Grissom loves you."

Sara practically snorted as she tried to blink the tears away. "You have no idea how much I wish that was true…"

Grissom lowered his eyes for a second, and then made his decision. He stepped forward and cleared his throat, "You can stop wishing, Sara."

He saw her pause in mid-breath.

"Because it's true."

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**Ok, hope that was worth the wait? More soon; I promise. :)**

**Hit the 'go' and let me know what you think. Thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone. Here's another update; hope it doesn't disappoint. I've figured out that the fastest way for me to update this story is work on only one story at a time. So for everyone who's read the first three chapters of "Promise Not To Tell," I'm sorry to say that it won't be updated in a while until I finish this story. But don't worry, I WILL finish it…in fact, I have the next chapter written, but I'll post it after I finish "Risk."**

**Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews. Reviews are once again greatly appreciated. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. ****

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**

**Chapter 11**

Grissom sighed as both the younger CSIs were rendered speechless by his confession of sorts. The look on Sara's face couldn't be less emotional if she tried. Nick on the other hand, looked as if he was a deer caught in the headlights. He swallowed mutely as his eyes darted from Grissom to Sara.

"I should give you guys some privacy…" he said as he stood up to leave. Sara stopped him, gripping his right forearm.

"Stay."

He was clearly uncomfortable, sending Grissom a helpless look as he sat back down. Grissom licked his lips, "I think we should talk, Sara."

She frowned in his vicinity, "Then talk."

Grissom took one glance at Nick and then cleared his throat, "Alright…" He paused, unsure how to proceed as both Sara and Nick eyed him intently—Nick being the only one who could register his look of uncertainty. "I meant what I said."

Sara nodded yet frowned, "Okay fine. Then say it again."

"It's true."

She shook her head this time, "No…I mean say those three forbidden little words, Grissom." She blinked at him accusingly, and even though she couldn't see him, her look still gave away the emotion she intended to convey.

Grissom opened his mouth, only to have it twist in hesitant consideration—much like it did the day in his office when she said she moved to Vegas for him. "I…"

Nick's eyes widened, and he lifted his free hand to encourage Grissom, while Sara pursed her lips knowingly in his vicinity. The words couldn't seem to escape his mouth, and he didn't know which was scarier: when Sara always looked him directly in the eyes during one of their moments, or the fact that now, she didn't—or _couldn't_. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Grissom, days to Sara, and weeks to Nick, the blind brunette shook her head. "Just leave."

He didn't though. Grissom remained rooted in his spot, mouth still partially open. She _knew_ he wouldn't be able to say it, and in a way it irritated him that she knew him so well. "Sara…please…"

"Nick," she said as she turned toward the man who still had an arm wrapped around her. "Can you just go and take Grissom with you. I don't feel like having company at the moment."

He looked as if he was about to protest, but one look at Sara's face changed his mind. "Okay," he agreed quietly. "Did you want me to get your doctor?"

She nodded, "Tell him I want my discharge papers. _Now._"

"You can't be discharged unless you have a caretaker at home," Grissom said softly from the doorway.

"_And_?" Sara huffed, "Are you volunteering?" Before he could even answer, she continued on, "Fine, could you do me a favor and call Catherine, Nick? Ask her if she could pick me up and sign my papers."

Nick stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I'll call her as soon as I'm out of here."

She nodded and reached her hand out. He grasped it, and she mustered up a smile. "Thanks."

He pushed opened the door and gave a pointed look at the entomologist still lingering inside, "Let's go, Grissom."

Taking one last glance at Sara, he begrudgingly followed.

* * *

Catherine walked through the door to Sara's room nosily, allowing the brunette to know she had company. Sara sat up in her bed and looked at the sound of the noise. "Cath?"

"Yep, Nick told me you wanted me to sign some discharge papers?" she asked as she approached the bed.

"Could you? I mean, you don't even really need to be my caretaker. Just tell that to the doctors so they'd let me out of here."

Catherine shook her head, "One—I'd be happy to sign the papers. But two—you're crazy to think I'd let you go home and take care of yourself."

"I'll be fine."

"Sara…I'm putting this as nicely as I possibly can…you're _blind_."

"So you've heard?"

Catherine nodded, "Nick told me when he called. I'm sorry, Sara…" she said sympathetically.

"I don't need any more pity from people." Sara retorted in a huff. "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for the past thirty years."

"Well, then it's time to let your friends help you." Catherine sighed, "You can stay over at my place while you…recover."

"Recover?..." Sara scoffed. "You're the one who so bluntly mentioned the fact I can't see, and you want me to stay somewhere I'm not even familiar with? Nice one, genius…" she snapped.

Catherine pursed her lips, knowing that if she was in Sara's position, she'd be just as angry and bitter. "Ok then, I'll stay with you at your place, and have my sister take care of Lindsey for awhile."

"Really Catherine, it's fine," she argued back.

"Sara. Listen to me…despite our differences, I would like for you to still consider me as a friend. Now let me ask you, do you have any other girlfriends here in Vegas?" The younger CSI gritted her teeth before shaking her head. Catherine continued, "Okay then let's face it. You_ need _me. Would you rather have Warrick or Nick help you get in the shower? Or God forbid Grissom?" Sara opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Catherine again. "Wait, don't answer that," she said as her face scrunched up in disgust.

Sara pursed her lips, "Fine. Just sign the papers."

* * *

Grissom rounded a corner at the lab and bumped into Greg. "Grissom, I compiled all the tests from the Preston-Wright case. Travis Reed definitely did it. He's back in PD right now; Vartann is waiting for you to question him."

Grissom, who had barely been listening, waved the younger CSI off. "You do it," he said off-handedly. "Let me know how it turns out."

Greg gaped at his retreating back for a good five seconds before heading off to his first official interrogation.

Grissom made a beeline for his office, but right before he saw the door in sight, Warrick looked up from the file he was carried and nodded at him. "Hey."

"Hey," Grissom replied with a frown. "Anything new?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question," he replied, referring to Sara's condition. "I'll go first. Catherine and I found Sara's attacker—who was also the killer of Gregory Shelby." Grissom quirked an eyebrow, which was a sign for Warrick to continue. "Garrison's maid, Sophie Cattaneo—apparently she had a thing for the photographer, and wasn't willing to share. Sarah Shelby was the actual target; her husband's death wasn't planned."

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sara's blind."

"Sarah Shelby?"

"No, Sara Sidle."

The file in Warrick's hand almost fell to the floor. "She's _what?_ How?"

"She came into contact with the photo chemistry. Self-explanatory."

Warrick rubbed his forehead in distress. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Catherine will most likely be her caretaker until we figure something out."

Warrick glanced at his boss's posture—shoulders slumped, bags under his eyes, feet barely lifting as he walked. "Hey, man…I'm sorry." He placed a hand on Grissom's shoulder, "We all know how much she means to you."

"All my CSIs mean a lot to me," he responded.

"Yeah," Warrick gave him a pointed look, "I'm going down to PD to talk to Ms. Shelby. Let her know what really happened to her husband."

Grissom nodded and continued along his way to his office as Warrick past him and headed for the police department. Once inside the safe confines, he slumped into his chair, thinking about how his life got so much more complicated from one incident. His eyes wandered to the bottle of migraine pills on his desk. He smiled a little, remembering that they were in the exact same spot the day everything had _really_ began—the day he kissed Sara for the first time.

It had all started with an accidental kiss. But unfortunately, it ended in a life-changing accident for Sara. No, this wasn't the end. It was just the journey. Grissom shook his head, refusing to believe Sara would be permanently blind for the rest of her life. She would fight through it, and the doctors would find a way to fix her eyesight.

He stood up and paced around his office, remembering how Sara would squint her eyes when she examined an incriminating piece of evidence. Or how they would twinkle when she figured out the connection between the evidence and the killer. Would he ever see that twinkle again? He sighed and stopped in front of his shelf, frowning at his reflection in the little mirror he had.

He looked old.

Grissom imagined Sara's young, practically wrinkle free face next to his and grimaced at how weird they would look as a couple. But there is that saying, "never judge a book by its cover" right? He thought of Gus Garrison and Sarah Shelby—they were practically his and Sara's clones. Except Garrison actually took a risk and let the woman he loved in his life. Look where it got them though. Grissom sighed, 'The woman he loved…'

Did he love Sara?

His heart ached at the thought, confirming that he did, but he frowned into the mirror when as he thought of what happened in the hospital. He couldn't say it. He could agree with it if someone said it for him, but he couldn't say the three little words himself.

Grissom cleared his throat and redirected his attention at his reflection again. "Sara…I love you."

That wasn't so hard. He tried again, "I love you."

"I'm _in_ love with you, Sara..."

Grissom pursed his lips in annoyance. Apparently, when Sara _wasn't _there, he could say the words without even a single stutter. He cleared his throat again and stood up a little straighter as he stared into the mirror, "I've always loved you—"

"—And I've always loved you, too."

Grissom whipped around at the sound of the female voice coming from his doorway. Catherine leaned against his door with a backpack slung around her shoulder, eyebrows raised. She couldn't help but smirk as his cheeks were colored in pink. "It's my ass isn't it? One look and men just fall right in love," she quipped sarcastically.

"It certainly isn't your sense of humor," he deadpanned. Catherine rolled her eyes as Grissom shot her a look of annoyance. "Aren't you supposed to be taking Sara home?"

Catherine shrugged, "She's in the car."

"You left her in the car?" Grissom asked incredulously, "Why would you leave her alone?!"

"Relax, Gil." Catherine said as she crossed the threshold and stood in front of him. "She wanted me to pick up her stuff from her locker." She paused, "I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

Grissom tried to look impassive. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Yes," he replied a little too quickly as he tried to shoo Catherine out of his office. "Go take her home. She shouldn't be left alone."

"She's a woman, not a puppy, Gil."

Grissom pushed the blonde out the doorway, "I'm all too aware of that."

Catherine rolled her eyes and shook her head before seriously adding, "You should go home. Get some sleep and start taking care of yourself."

"Okay, fine. Would you_ please _get back to Sara now," Grissom replied impatiently.

Catherine nodded as he started to retreat back into his office. "Oh, and Gil?"

Grissom turned back, the look annoyance returning.

"I'm sure she's always loved you back."

* * *

TBC…

**Review please? Hit the 'go' and let me know!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I wrote up to Chapter 14 of this story and suddenly encountered writer's block. But with the help of a friend I know with direction to take this story now. It will definitely be longer than I originally attended, but will also end in a happier note. BUT, you will have to suffer through the angst to get there. Haha, I'm evil I know. Hopefully, I can get updates up more quickly now.  
**

**Thank you to everyone that's read my story, and a big thank you to those who review. I can't tell you enough how much it means. **

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**Chapter 12**

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"Gil?"

Grissom shuffled his feet outside Sara's apartment door. "How is she?" he asked, addressing the blonde in front of him.

Catherine gave a little shrug as she stepped out of the way to let him in. "It's only been a couple days since she's been out of the hospital. Still adjusting."

He nodded as he took a seat at the breakfast bar. "Where is she now?"

"Taking a shower." Before Grissom could open his mouth in protest, Catherine raised her hand to silence him. "She insisted she could do it by herself. I helped her the first time, and you know Sara…after that she wanted to do everything on her own."

"That sounds like Sara."

"How are you holding up?"

Grissom eyed her warily, "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Catherine said pointedly. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Catherine, we're short-handed. With both you and Sara out, I almost resorted to assigning Greg to a double homicide. Solo."

She winced, "That bad, huh? Is Ecklie going to lend you someone from days?"

"No." Grissom shook his head, "Sophie Cattaneo's trial is going to be in a few days. Ecklie wants this whole case wrapped up before he starts moving CSIs around."

"Makes sense I guess. This whole thing must have been a PR nightmare for him."

Grissom rolled his eyes.

"Well, the good news is that there's more than enough evidence to put that psycho behind bars."

"Actually, it's not that easy."

Catherine scoffed, "Grissom, the woman tried to kill Sarah Shelby." She raised one finger. "Killed her husband on accident instead." Another finger went up. "Then tried to frame it on Gus Garrison." Her ring finger joined the other two. "And then stupidly, she crippled a CSI on the investigation." Catherine's pinky finger punctuated her words.  
"If _that's_ not enough for a conviction, then something is seriously wrong with our justice system."

Grissom shook his head, "One, something is wrong with our justice system, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. And two, her lawyer is going to play the insanity card."

"You're kidding me?" Catherine barked, "She willingly did what she did! How much more obvious can it be?"

Grissom sighed, "This is a reason why I'm here."

"What?" Catherine gave him a confused glance. Then, realization hit, "Oh, no," she scoffed at Grissom in disgust. "And here I thought you were just worried about Sara."

"I am worried about her."

"But you came here to see if she would _testify_?! Good God, Grissom. Hasn't she been through enough?"

"It's her choice, Catherine."

"Do me a favor. Leave before she sees you." Grissom gave her a pointed look. "You know what I mean!" Catherine heard the shower water sputter to a stop. "I mean it Grissom, I love you as a friend, but sometimes you are clueless. I'll talk to her about the trial."

"I…care about her, Catherine."

The blonde looked at her utterly hopeless friend with pity. "I know you do." She paused for a split second, "But you _really_ suck at showing it."

"I'm trying."

"I know. Now go!" Catherine shooed him off the stool, but it was too late as the bathroom door creaked open.

Sara wandered out of the bathroom, her newly purchased mobility cane in hand. Grissom eyed her fluffy robe and the water droplets trickling down her exposed skin. She obviously didn't want to—or couldn't—dry off. With one fluid motion, the cane unfolded in front of her. "I gotta say, these blind man's canes are really something."

Grissom winced at her false cheeriness.

"Cath? You there?"

Catherine cleared her throat as Sara made her way toward them, her walking cane tapping in front of her. "Yeah, I'm here. How was your shower?"

"Better than last time, considering I didn't put conditioner in my hair before shampoo." She sighed as she found an empty stool, "I'm getting use to it."

Catherine glanced at Grissom, nudging her head toward the door, "Good…good."

"Is it? Is it really a good thing that I'm getting use to being _blind_?" she replied with a hint of annoyance in her voice. Sara sighed, "I'm sorry. It's not your fault."

Catherine pushed Grissom on the shoulder, trying to get him to move toward the door, but with no avail. "That's okay," she said breathlessly and she continued to try and force Grissom out. "I understand the way you're feeling."

Grissom rolled his eyes at Catherine's physical attempts to get him to leave. He was almost twice her size, and her efforts looked ridiculous.

"What's going on, Cath?" Sara furrowed her brows and for a moment Grissom swore she was staring straight at him.

"What? Nothing."

Grissom opened his mouth, but Catherine clamped her hand over it, causing a muffled, "Mmmph!"

"Catherine, is someone else here?"

Grissom tore Catherine's hand away in a huff. "Sara."

"Grissom?"

"Grissom!" Catherine glared at him.

He ignored her, "Yes, how are you doing Sara?"

Catherine groaned.

Sara frowned, "I'm fine. At least as fine as I could be. What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you," Grissom replied softly, surprising Catherine. "I wanted to see if you needed anything."

She shook her head, "Thanks, but Catherine's been great."

"Oh…"

"Is that all?" Sara asked, squinting her eyes a bit in frustration. It seemed that along with her sense of sight, she had lost her patience for him as well. It was harder for her keep her anger to herself, and unfortunately Catherine had been at the receiving end of it most of the time. But with Grissom here, present and sputtering in his clueless Grissom-like way, Sara had a new target. Fresh meat—or vegetables in her case.

"Well, that's the main reason I came to see you, but…"

Sara rolled her eyes, "Just spit it out, Grissom."

"Sophia Cattaneo's trial is in two days," Grissom started. "Her lawyer is playing the insanity card. DA wants you to testify."

"_Testify?_" Sara practically snarled. "How about you carry me to the stand—just to prevent the trial from lasting longer than necessary. Then, I can take off sunglasses, whip out my walking stick, and try to stick it up the judges' ass!"

"Sara—"

"—No! Grissom, don't you 'Sara' me! What kind of judge is stupid enough to _not_ convict her after what she did!"

Catherine, who had been listening quietly to the conversation chimed in, "That's what I said. Warrick and I interrogated her. I joked about her sanity at one point, but ultimately the woman knew perfectly well what she was doing, Gil."

Grissom groaned, "_I_ know that. But it isn't about what I think."

"Unbelievable," Sara fumed.

"Sara, I know you don't want to be in public right now, much less a courthouse. But if you want her behind bars and not suck somewhere in an mental institute, then I think the best way to convince the judges is to have all the CSIs on the case offer some logical reasoning."

"Grissom," she paused for effect, "I'm _blind_! I never even interrogated the woman, much less know whether or not she's insane! You know what…" Sara shook her head in frustration, "I don't care. I just want this nightmare to be over. And that's not going to happen whether she's in prison or not."

"You deserve justice, Sara," Grissom said quietly.

She turned to look toward his vicinity, "You seem to want her in prison more than I do. What? Are you feeling guilty all of a sudden?" she snapped.

Grissom flinched.

Catherine opened her mouth, but nothing more than a small squeak came out.

Sara immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.

Grissom cleared his throat, "I should go."

"Grissom…Gris—I'm sorry." Sara closed her eyes and cursed inwardly at herself. Her control of her anger wavered every second, and it was damn near impossible to not lash out at people who were just trying to help her. She knew it wasn't Grissom's fault. He had no way of predicting she'd be attacked at a crime scene. But a part of her had held resentment over the fact she was only there, because Grissom took her off her original case. She felt the tears build up in her eyes, "I didn't mean it that way."

"No, you're right."

"Gil…" Catherine started.

Sara heard his footsteps head for the door, "No wait, Grissom!" In a very klutzy manner, she hopped off the stool and rammed her knee into the kitchen island. "Son-of-a!"

"Sara!" Both Grissom and Catherine yelped as she eased herself to the floor, clutching her knee.

"Are you okay?" Catherine asked as she bent to examine the brunette.

The water works started, "I'm sorry, Grissom."

Grissom sank to his knees beside her, "No…no I'm the one that's sorry, honey."

She cried harder, "I—I can't seem to control—" she hiccupped and Grissom squeezed her hand. "—control my anger."

"You have the right to be angry." He gingerly helped her up, and awkwardly pulled her into a hug.

'If you could even call that a hug,' Catherine thought. But it was a start.

Her hiccups slowly turned into sniffles. Grissom continued to hold her in an awkward position as the bottom of Sara's head buried into his shoulder. "I really didn't mean it," she said after a moment.

"I know…" Grissom hugged her a little tighter and shot Catherine a look of sorrow. "But regardless, it's still true."

Sara shook her head.

"You should have never been there in the first place," he continued, words laced with guilt.

She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know what's wrong with me," Sara said as she pointed to her tears.

Catherine smiled and quipped sarcastically, "Oh let's face it, you were always the emotional one." Upon seeing Grissom's glare, she clarified, "For good reasons of course. Oh, I'm just kidding! Sara, it's natural for you to be emotional right now." Catherine smirked, "Enjoy this moment, cause I'm never going to repeat this again…but you're allowed to be bitchy."

Sara pursed her lips, but both Grissom and Catherine noticed a corner twitch upward a little, "Great."

"Tell you what," Catherine stated enthusiastically. "Why don't I fill in for you at work for a while, Gil." At his incredulous stare and lack of protest, she continued, "That way, you can weasel your way out of paperwork, and get a break while watching Sara."

"I'm not a puppy," Sara scowled.

Catherine snorted, "Yes I know, believe me we had this conversation before. But come on, what do you say? I'm dying to get back out on the field."

"Is my company that horrible?" Sara complained, albeit seriously.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Catherine huffed.

"I get it, Catherine," Grissom said quietly. He knew Catherine just wanted to give a little push regarding his relationship with Sara. But would sticking them in the same room with no escape really be a good idea? It could damage their relationship even further, but surprisingly he found himself wanting to take the risk. "If it's okay with you, Sara, I'd like to stay."

Catherine clapped her hands together, "Great, then it's settled!" She grabbed her purse from the end table and gave Sara a kiss on the cheek. "Be good!" she said in her sarcastic motherly tone.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Sara argued as she tried to slap Catherine's face away.

"Do you have something against, Grissom?"

"No, of course not—"

"—Good." Catherine opened the door and smiled at her two bewildered geek friends. "Her medicine is on the coffee table. She needs to take it every four to six hours. Oh, and if you draw her a bath, make sure you use the strawberry passion bottle, not the vanilla—she almost chewed my head off for that."

"_She_ is standing right here!" Sara barked.

Catherine grinned, "Have fun you two!"

* * *

TBC...

**Reviews, constructive criticism, etc. is gladly appreciated. :) (No flames, though...pretty please)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's a little lighter chapter. It's not very long, but I figured I needed to have a bit of a break from the angst. Enjoy!**

**Once again, thank you to those who read and review. It really means the world to me. :)**

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**  
Chapter 13**

The first hour after Grissom had taken over "Sara-watching" was one of the most uncomfortable hours of his life. He had hoped that Sara would take comfort in the fact that he was opening up and was volunteering to spend time with her.

She didn't.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably for what seemed like the millionth time. "So, did you want to listen to some music?"

"I listened to music all day yesterday with Catherine. Not much else you can do, ya know?" She muttered bitterly and padded slowly toward the fridge, fumbling for the handle.

"Sara," Grissom winced and started toward her, "Let me help you."

"I'm not a baby," she snapped, "I can manage to feed myself just fine."

He stopped in his tracks and watched her fumble over a bottle of beer and what looked like a block of cheese. He knew Sara was highly independent and took pride in that, but for once, he just wished she'd stop being so stubborn and let other people take care of her. Grissom watched in interest as she slowly felt her way around the counter to the knife block and pulled out a blade. "You seem to be adapting quite well," he offered.

She paused mid-way back to her cheese block and shrugged, "What do you want me to say to that? Thank you?"

"I don't want you to say anything."

Sara frowned and slowly approached the cheese. She set the knife down momentarily and began to unwrap it. "It doesn't matter," she said as she tore at a corner of the wrapper. "Nothing anyone says is going to make me feel any better about this. And you know why? Because I'm _blind_! So unless your words of pity can change that fact, then just don't bother attempting!" Sara cursed as she continued to tug at the wrapper.

Her voice had again raised an octave, and Grissom approached her warily. Walking up behind her, he stilled her hands with his.

She flinched.

"Okay," Grissom whispered, "I'll stop trying to make you feel better."

Sara swallowed as she felt herself tearing up again. "And I don't need you to do things for me either," she said shakily, attempting to brush his hands away.

Grissom's held onto her hands tighter, "I'm not going to do anything for you, Sara." She turned her head in surprise. "But you do need help." He continued quickly before she could protest. "You need my eyes, Sara. You said to stop trying to make you feel better, so I'll stop. What I am going to do is tell you the truth of the matter. And that is—you _need_ me right now."

He expected her to lash out again—to get angry. What he didn't expect was for her face to suddenly fall, sadness gracing her features. "I've always needed you," she murmured so quietly that he barely heard her.

Every muscle in Grissom's body was suddenly screaming to run away. Leave it to Sara to surprise him when he least expected it. But instead of taking a step back, he held onto her hands, hoping it would be enough to stop him from fleeing the scene like he wanted to. "Sara…"

She shook her head, "Don't worry about it. Let's pretend I didn't say anything."

Always letting him off the hook.

That's Sara.

Her shoulders slumped a little, "Are you going to help me open this cheese or what?"

"Here," Grissom guided her fingers to the opposite corner of the block. "There's a tab—do you feel it?"

Sara nodded, and with one tug the plastic broke free. "Thanks…" she turned and came remarkable close to bumping noses with him without realizing it. "…For letting me do it myself."

Grissom smiled for the first time in days. "You're welcome."

* * *

"Catherine? What are you doing here?"

"Working, Nicky—what does it look like I'm doing?" she said as she glanced up from the file on Grissom's desk.

"How's Sara?"

"Good. I switched jobs with Grissom." Noticing Nick's look of surprise, she added, "Don't worry, he'll be fine. Sara can practically take care of herself anyway, sight or no sight."

"Catherine…" Nick started, shaking his head. "This is a dangerous game you're playing here." He remembered the conversation that took place in the hospital, "The last person Sara wants around her right now is Grissom."

Catherine closed the file and stood up, "I don't care what she wants." Nick's mouth opened in protest, but she raised a hand. "Let me rephrase that—I do care about what she wants, but I care more about what she _needs_. And let's face it, what she needs is someone who loves her."

Catherine strode out of the office confidently with Nick trailing behind her. "Are you saying you don't love her?" he teased.

"That's not the love I'm talking about, and you know it."

Nick sighed, "I just hope you know what you're doing." They both stopped to give each other pointed looks before Nick took a right to Trace. Catherine shook her head slightly and continued on her way to the break room.

"I hope so too, Nick…" she murmured.

* * *

"Grissom, I'm _bored_."

He glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. "Did you want to do something?"

They had spent the past hour in silence with Grissom checking his email and reading the paper, while Sara tuned and cleaned her guitar. It had made Grissom realize that he didn't really know as much about Sara as he thought. He never figured her to have the time to play an instrument. But when he commented on it, she shrugged and said she was merely a beginner. It was a hobby, nothing else.

He didn't push her for more information.

Sara groaned, "What is there _to _do?"

"Well, would you like to watch a movie? Movies don't necessarily have to be seen to be enjoyable."

"Are yah kidding me?" she retorted incredulously.

He put his newspaper down and walked to her entertainment unit. Skimming over her DVD collection, he frowned. "Don't you have any non-action movies?"

"If you are referring to chick flicks—no. I don't."

At her slightly disgusted tone, he turned to her, "Not a fan of romance?"

"Romance, yes. Sickening sweet fairy tales, no."

Grissom chuckled at her twisted facial expression, "You might be surprised to know that there are plenty of romantic comedies that aren't _sickening sweet._"

"Says you!" Sara huffed. "Every chick flick I've seen ends the same way—the guy gets the girl or vice versa—usually after tears and a crap load of suffering. Throw in a misunderstanding here and there to add angst, and voila!" Grissom shifted uncomfortably at how her description was dangerously close to describing their relationship—just without the happy ending. She continued on obliviously though, as she narrowed her eyes and put on an adorably stubborn look, "The only good thing that comes out of those movies is a good make out session in the theater with your boyfriend."

Grissom choked on his own saliva, making Sara grin a little. He cleared his throat, "I'll have to remember that." He paused before asking, "Is that how you know so much about _chick flicks _in the first place?"

"Pfft!" She gave him an incredulous glare, "That bull doesn't work on me." She leaned back and smiled, "If I even get the slightest hint a guy is taking me out to watch a chick flick for a free make out session, I'd purposely make him suffer."

Grissom pouted a little, "I see…"

"Although, one guy I dated back in college did genuinely like those type of movies." Sara thought for a moment, "I wonder if he turned out gay."

"Hey…I like romantic comedies, too!" Grissom retorted defensively. "Not all of them are bad—"

"—Relax Grissom! I was just kidding." She grinned in his direction, "If it's worth anything, I did lose my virginity to him."

"Oh."

Sara frowned and he saw blush creeping up her cheeks, "Too much information." She bit her bottom lip, "Sorry."

"No, no!" Grissom replied quickly. "I…like getting to know you," he said dumbly as he took a seat next to her on the couch.

Sara felt the couch cushions shift and cocked an eyebrow.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he quipped, "So you might have lost your virginity to a gay guy?" He winced at his pathetic attempt to break the tension.

Luckily, Sara took his comment as a joke, and swatted at him playfully. When her hand connected with his face—knocking his glasses off instead of his shoulder, she gasped. "Oh jeez, sorry Grissom! I wasn't aiming for your face."

"Could have fooled me," he said with a grin and picked up his glasses.

Sara's face fell and he immediately realized that she couldn't see he was smiling. "Honey, I was kidding."

"_Could have fooled me_," she replied angrily. She sighed, "Sorry…I have these moments…"

Grissom rested his hand on her knee, "It's okay, Sara. I can handle them." He gave her knee a little squeeze, "Don't try to hold it in."

She nodded and Grissom couldn't help but smile when she laid her hand over his. "Thanks."

"No problem." He stood up and crossed the room again, "So…what about a comedy?"

Sara shrugged, "Sure."

"Romantic comedy?"

She scowled, "Don't push your luck."

Grissom laughed and held his hands up in surrender, "Remember, I happen to be one of those guys who just so happen to enjoy a romantic movie now and then. It's not a plan to get you to make out with me."

Sara rolled her eyes. 'Puh-lease. Mr. Always-plays-it-safe, yeah…sounds like something Grissom would do,' she thought sarcastically. "Don't worry, getting me all romanced up doesn't work on me anyway, remember?

"Oh?" He popped _Elf _into the DVD player. "How about a scary movie then?" he teased.

She missed his flirty side, "Yeah…I see dead bodies and occasionally pick them apart for a living. Do I _look_ like a girl who'd be scared of zombies and ghosts?"

"It's not the subject matter that scares the audience." Grissom sat back down next to her and reached for the remote. "It's the suspense and unpredictability."

"If you say so," Sara said as she leaned back.

He cocked an eyebrow at her thoughtfully, "You _have_ seen a scary movie right?"

"Sure. Back in the day."

She felt Grissom's gaze piercing through her, "Really…name some of them."

Sara frowned and pursed her lips at him. _Dracula, Werewolf, Young Frankenstein…_the classics."

Grissom laughed heartily, "Sara…"

Oh, how she wanted to stick her tongue out at him.

"…Those—while classics no doubt—are meant to scare people by leaving the scary parts up to their imagination. Scary movies nowadays are meant to make people jump out of their seats with all the surround sound and CG effects." He grinned at her annoyed expression, "Oh, and _Young Frankenstein _is a comedy. Not a scary movie."

"Fine," she scoffed. "I've never seen any scary movies _lately. _What's the point? None of these movies today are going to be classics like the one's back in the day"

"True," Grissom agreed. "But they do get your heart racing."

"I can think of other ways to get my heart racing."

Grissom ignored her double entendre, "We should go watch one sometime."

Sara's head whirled around to stare at him. Even with dark shades covering her eyes, he squirmed uncomfortably at her gaze. "I think you're forgetting something, Grissom."

"What?"

"Uh…I. Can't. See." She said slowly and surprisingly without malice. He did sense a hint of sorrow there though.

"No one said you had to be watching the movie." He grinned a little when her jaw hit the floor. Before he lost his cool, Grissom added swiftly, "Good, it's a date."

* * *

**Let me know what you think, please:)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, so this is one of the longer chapters I've written. I hope everyone enjoys it. It has a little bit of fluff along with the angst.**

**Oh, and I've had people ask me if Sara's going to be permanently blind. All I can say is, I promise this story has a happy ending to it. I don't want to give away the storyline…so yeah, I hope that will do. If you _really_ want to know the future of her eyesight…just PM me and I'll tell you. But it's always more fun waiting, isn't it? Haha, anyway…thank you all once again for reading and reviewing:)  
**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Two days came and went with Grissom staying with Sara and tending to her every need, which wasn't much at all. She refused to initially ask for any help with any task. And Grissom, despite wanting to cater to her every need, gave her the independence she was seeking. It was until she asked for it, that he would lend his help. He smiled at the comfortable friendship he and Sara had developed in the two days they spen. He diced a tomato for the salsa he was making and looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. "Are you sure?"

"For the last _time,_ Grissom. Yes, I am sure. I'm not going. I don't want to. I don't need to. And nothing you say is going to change my mind."

Grissom scooped the tomatoes into a bowl with the rest of the ingredients. He sighed, "Okay, then."

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered. "I'm just not ready to face the rest of the world yet, much less the person that did this to me."

"I understand." He put the knife in the sink and wiped his hands with the dishtowel. "Greg's going to be here at any second. Promise me you'll let him help you when you need it."

Sara scowled, "_If _I need it you mean."

Her expression, which two days ago would have made Grissom cower, made him grin softly. "You know what I mean, Sara."

"Yeah yeah," she scoffed.

"I'm sorry to stick you with Greg, but he was the only one not part of the active investigation. The others all need to testify."

"Which still doesn't explain why _you_ need to be there."

Grissom paused for a moment, "I—I feel like I _need_ to be there." Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised at his honesty. "I need some kind of closure."

She frowned at him, "This wasn't your fault, Grissom." Sara got up and reached for his hand, which he didn't immediately take. When he finally did, she squeezed it and smiled. "I'm sorry for what I said initially…it really was just the anger talking."

"You had every right to be mad at me."

She shook her head, "Bad things happen to good people all the time. Doesn't give them the right to be mad at the innocent." Grissom remained silent, and Sara stepped closer to lay her free hand on his shoulder. "I know our relationship has been…complicated. And your decisions regarding me haven't been all unbiased toward the way you feel. But regardless of everything that's happened, I knew…I _know _you'd never do anything if you felt it would hurt me in anyway."

Grissom bowed his head for a moment. Sara didn't realize how close their faces were until he started talking and his breath hit her skin. "I'm still sorry," he all but murmured.

"Apology accepted…" she whispered back.

The doorbell rang suddenly, causing both of them to jump back. Sara retracted her hands from Grissom, and he swallowed uncomfortably. "That must be Greg."

Sara nodded and sat back on the couch. A second later, she heard Grissom swing the door open, and a jovial "SARA!" rang through the air. She turned her head toward the voice, "Hey Greg," she replied, managing to even smile a little.

"I've missed you…" he said as he wrapped both arms around her from behind the couch.

"Likewise."

"Look what I've brought," he said enthusiastically as he held up a box.

She frowned at him, but bit back a snappy retort. With Grissom's help the past few days, it had become easier to handle her anger. Instead, she mustered up her most amused look and replied lightly, "I would if I could, Greggo." She smiled a little, "Why don't you just tell me."

Greg's smile immediately fell as he blushed and shot an apologetic look at Grissom—who was standing by the door watching. "It's nothing special. I just brought my keyboard. I haven't played since college, but between you and me, I bet we can make some pretty good tunes. But if you're not up to it, I understand. Or rather, if you think it's silly, we don't—"

"—Greg." Sara shook her head with a grin. "Stop over-talking. That sounds great."

He beamed. "Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, well I should be back in a few hours," Grissom said from his corner. "Take care of her Greg."

He nodded, "Will do, boss."

Sara felt for the remote and turned the television on the MTV music channel. Grissom crooked his finger at Greg, beckoning him to come over. Immediately, his shoulders slumped a little as he approached.

"Look Greg," he whispered. "Sara's a very independent person, so remember to give her space when she needs it. Don't smother her. Help her when she asks for it."

Greg gave the older man a wry look. "Well duh, anyone who's known Sara since she came here knows that just by looking at her work ethic at the lab. Chill Grissom, it's just for a couple hours, I got this covered."

Grissom's eyebrow rose. He felt a sudden urge to shove Greg. Though the younger CSI didn't mean anything with his comment, he felt as if it was insulting his intelligence. Of course he new that Sara was independent before this happened. But then again, more annoyance struck him as he realized Greg knew that Sara played the guitar before he did. "Just…take care of her."

Another nod.

Grissom cleared his throat, "Bye honey."

Sara's head snapped at his direction.

Greg cocked both eyebrows in surprise at him.

Grissom blushed at his slip-up.

"Uh, bye…" Sara said with a fair amount of confusion, embarrassment, and surprise.

"Bye," Grissom murmured and glared at Greg, willing his eyebrows to lower. When they did, he turned his heel through the door and closed it with a soft click behind him.

Greg shook his head a little. Sometimes, his enigmatic boss can be a surprise. He turned to Sara, "So, what was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

Unable to read Sara as he use to with her shades on, he shrugged. "Something going on with you an Grissom?" he asked nonchalantly.

Sara gave him a cynical look that he could identify even with the her eyes covered. "No."

"Okay," he said as he plopped down onto the couch next to her.

"So…" she started as she turned to face him. "You and Grissom _do _know that I could hear you guys right?"

* * *

Grissom shoved the door open as he exited the courtroom. He crossed his arms over his chest and seethed at stupidity the human population can produce sometimes. In other words, he didn't understand how a jury could be that stupid. Sophia Cattaneo wasn't sentenced to life for murder _and_ crippling a law enforcement officer. 

No.

Instead, when asked if the defendant was guilty at a deliberate attempt of murder and assault, the jury voted not guilty. Apparently, Sophia Cattaneo was guilty on all charges when considering the actual murder. But she wasn't in her right mind when she did it—giving her an out from prison.

Grissom heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see his three CSIs who worked on the case. "Damn!" Warrick cursed.

Nick paced around with his hands on his hips. "Arthur Tran is good," he said of the defendant's attorney. "He completely blind-sighted us.

"Medical records," Catherine added. "Unbelievable. No jury would have said she murdered deliberately when they had brain tests and what-not proving she was mentally ill." She huffed, "Did you understand any of that mumbo jumbo anyway, Gil?"

Grissom frowned and nodded.

When he didn't speak, Nick spoke up for him, "Something about how some nerve in her brain wasn't attached properly." He scowled, "Who the fuck cares! I stopped listening after I saw the looks on the juror's faces. We lost them at the point."

Warrick agreed, "Medical evidence trumps forensic evidence."

"I'm sorry, Gil," Catherine said solemnly as she laid a hand on Grissom's arm.

He shook his head, "You all did great. I'm going to head home. Greg's probably got his hands full with Sara."

The three younger CSIs watched him walk away defeated—no one daring to mention that he called Sara's apartment his home.

* * *

Grissom unlocked Sara's door with the spare key she had given him. Immediately, music filled his ears. He closed the door softly behind him and saw Sara and Greg sitting on the floor of the living room. She was happily playing a beat on her guitar as Greg poked at his keyboard, trying to come up with a rhythm. 

Sara laughed heartily. It was the first full-out laugh he heard from her since the accident. It made him smile. But a wave of sadness washed over him when he realized he wasn't the one who caused it. "Greg, stop…stop!"

He did immediately, "What's wrong?"

"You're hurting my ears," she quipped.

"Har har…" he replied sarcastically. "I told you I haven't played in a while."

"I could tell." She laughed again.

Grissom stepped closer and interrupted their banter, "I'm back."

Greg jumped in surprise and twirled around to face him. "Jeez, Grissom. Way to scare a guy!"

"Hey," Sara said with a smile.

"Hi."

Greg looked back and forth between the two. Something was definitely going on. It reminded him of his two best friends back in middle school, Dylan and Carly. They were a trio ever since six grade. Inseparable, that is until they became all shy around each other. Greg hadn't understood what really happened then, but the shyness soon went away, and the trio soon became a duo plus one. Grissom and Sara, however, were not in middle school. "Well," Greg said as he clapped his hands together, "I better get going. Gotta get some sleep before shift."

"Thanks for everything, Greg," Sara said as she stood up.

He picked up is keyboard and stuffed it back into its box. "No problemo, I enjoyed it. He sidestepped Grissom and headed toward the door. "Try to get some rest?"

"I will."

"Okay, bye."

Grissom gave him a curt nod, "Thank you, Greg."

Greg grinned and looked from him to Sara. "See ya, Grissom," he said with a knowing look that Grissom wanted to smack off his face.

The door snapped shut and Grissom returned his attention back to Sara. "So? Did you two have a good time?"

She smiled, "Yeah, we did."

"Good," Grissom nodded. "Did you want to get some sleep?"

"I'm not really tired. Still on a graveyard cycle I guess."

"Me too."

"How did the trial go?" Sara asked, sitting back down on the couch.

Grissom sighed, "I thought it was going quite well up to the point where the defense attorney presented medical information about Sophia Cattaneo's mental state."

"What do you mean?"

"They charged her with murder and assault. But for her sentence, she is going to be sent to a mental facility for evaluation and the proper medication," Grissom stated rather icily.

Sara scowled in fury, "Unbelievable."

"Sara…"

"You know what? I don't care, Grissom. It doesn't matter where she is sent as long as it's away from me," she stated wearily. "It wouldn't change anything."

"She deserves to be in prison," Grissom retorted.

"According to you. Not according to her medical records."

Grissom frowned. Maybe it was his guilt for what happened to Sara that made him invested in seeing Sophia Cattaneo rot in prison. But regardless of his personal feelings, he still hated to see a murderer escape her fate due to any reason. "Yeah well, if I could control the outcome of everything, the world would be—"

"—entirely _too_ boring."

Grissom glared at her. Sara cracked a smile, "Joke."

"Nah, you're probably right," he shrugged. "So…what did you want to do tonight?" he asked, changing the subject. "Catherine's still covering the shift for me, and Ecklie's allowed one of us time off while you recuperate. So you're still suck with me."

"Lucky me," Sara grinned. "What do you feel like doing?"

"Well…if I recall correctly, you owe me a scary movie."

"_Owe_ you?"

Grissom held up his hands, "Okay, bad choice of words. You _agreed _to see one with me."

"Technically, you sealed the deal before I could even agree or disagree to anything," she argued.

"I didn't see you complaining," he huffed humorously.

Sara grumbled, "Fine. What's out in theaters?"

"1408?"

"Excuse me?"

Grissom chuckled, "It's the name of the movie. It's about a haunted hotel room—of sorts. Something like that."

"Sounds thrilling," she deadpanned.

"Is that a no then?"

Sara smiled sweetly, "No, that sounds fine. Let me just get my coat." She felt Grissom stand up to help her and immediately frowned in his direction. "And no, I don't need help."

"Of course not," he mumbled.

Within a couple minutes, Sara had retrieved a coat from the closet and put it on. Grissom locked the door behind him as they headed to the car. Sara, who hadn't been out of the apartment, wasn't familiar with her current surroundings. She walked slowly down the hallway, scanning the area with her mobility cane. "Don't even think about it," she said as Grissom snapped his hand away from her arm.

'How did she do that?' he thought incredulously. He hadn't even touched her yet.

They got to the car and the ride to the local theater was in silence, expect for the soft music flowing from the radio. The car slowed to a stop and Grissom announced their arrival. Sara tucked her cane into her coat and hopped out of the car. "Grissom?"

He was at her side in an instance, "Yes?"

"Can you lead me?"

"Pardon?"

Sara huffed, "I don't want people to know I'm blind!" She looped her arm through his, "So lead."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her and slowly began to walk, Sara in arm. "Watch out…there's a curb," he warned. They both stepped over it smoothly. After what seemed like ages at the ticket booth and weaving through people in the lobby, they entered the theater and took their seats. "Did you want popcorn?" Grissom asked.

"Are you offering?"

Grissom pursed his lips at her, "I asked didn't I?"

"Okay then. Sure."

"I'll be right back."

"Oh, can you get me some candy too? Sour belts and some sour patch kids please," she asked sweetly.

Grissom rolled his eyes at her, "Yes dear."

"Don't forget drinks!" she called after him and giggled. If he was going to take her out on a date, she was at least going to make him squirm a little. Especially after the work he made her put into their relationship over the years, she deserved to have a little fun. But the reality of it was, she was on a date with Grissom. She was on a date with Grissom, and she couldn't even _see _him.

Life sucked sometime.

Sara frowned as she thought back to everything she had to go through just to get to this place. Life seemed to be all about compensation these days. She got to see Grissom again when she came to Vegas, but she had to be the black sheep of the shift for a while. She finally moved on from Grissom, but the person she moved on with was a lying, cheating scumbag. Grissom pinned her down and _sniffed _her, but she lost the promotion. They became closer after her DUI, but then Sofia stuck her nose into the picture. She finally got to go on a date with Grissom, but then she had to lose her eyesight first.

Sara sighed. Compensation could be a bitch sometimes.

However, like she said before, the reality of it all was that she _was _on a date with Grissom. If she had a choice, there would be no way she would have traded her eyesight for it, but she was going to make the most out of it.

"Sara?" a voice broke her out of her thoughts.

She looked up, attempting to recognize who the male voice belonged to. "Hey…"

"From the look on your face, I'd think you didn't remember me," he grinned at her even though she couldn't see him. "It's only been three years."

Hank.

Her face fell at the recognition of his voice. She cleared her throat, "I see you once in a while at crimes scenes still."

"Really? How come you never say hi?"

Sara scoffed, "Do you really need me to answer that?"

Hank shrugged and looked up a few rows to where his wife was sitting, "I'm sorry for the way things ended between us, Sara. I never did mean to hurt you."

Sara winced at the familiarity of those words. Interestingly, it affected her more when it came from a certain entomologist then from an EMT. "Water under the bridge right?"

Hank nodded. "What's up with the shades?" he asked with a frown.

"You haven't heard?" Sara gaped at him. She figured rumors of her blindness would have spread like wildfire by now. Nick had told her that information about the initial assault on her even made it to the news.

"Heard what? I haven't been around for the past two weeks—Elaine and I just got back from our honeymoon last night." He pointed up a few rows where she was sitting, eating popcorn and whispering on the phone. When Sara didn't turn to look, Hank frowned and chalked it up to her resentment toward his wife.

"Oh. Congratulations."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and murmured his thanks.

"But yeah," Sara continued, "These…" she pointed to her shades, "are really nothing. My prescription glasses broke the other day, so these are the closet thing to them."

"I see. I didn't know you wore glasses." Sara pursed her lips. Hank squinted at her suspiciously but bought the lie. "Guess it's better to watch a dark movie than a fuzzy one right?"

Sara faked a chuckle, "Right…"

"Well, listen…I better get back to Elaine."

"Yeah, great seeing you," she lied. _More like hearing from you._

"Hank," Grissom's voice cut through the air.

Sara winced just as Hank turned around to greet him. "Hi, Doctor Grissom right?" he said as he extended his hand. Grissom's hands were occupied with popcorn, drinks, and a bag of candy. He merely gave a nod in reply.

Hank dropped his hand back down to his side, "Are you guys...?" He looked from Sara to Grissom, and Sara could feel the blush rising on her cheeks.

Grissom was grateful Sara wasn't able to see the scowl that was set on his face. He desperately wanted to say yes and stick his tongue out at the man in front of him. But that would be childish. "Sara and I are just here to enjoy a movie together," he said vaguely.

Hank grinned somewhat knowingly. It was sort of a Greg grin—the same one that Grissom wanted to smack off his face. "I see." He looked at Sara again, who was staring straight ahead at the screen now. "Well, I have to get back to my wife. You two enjoy."

Grissom watched him trot up the steps to where a brunette was sitting and plant her a chaste kiss. "What was that about?" he asked Sara as he took his seat next to her.

"Nothing. He just wanted to say hi I guess."

He pursed his lips at her and handed her the popcorn, "Looks like he moved on from you pretty quick."

Sara huffed, "It's been three years, Grissom. What's your definition of quick?"

"Getting over you at all?" he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Her jaw dropped slightly. He certainly did know how to surprise a girl on the first date. "Well, he was dating her before he was dating me anyway. So I guess he never really 'got over' me."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, Sara…"

She held up a hand, "Let's pretend this was never mentioned."

"Okay." He dropped the subject and nodded curtly.

"Did you get my candy?"

He passed the bag to her and she dug in. "Here's your drink, too. Raspberry iced tea, okay?"

"Perfect."

The previews to the movie began and Sara surprised Grissom my taking off her shades. He stared at her eyes for a moment. They generally looked the same, but something was different—missing. Even a stranger could probably tell that the woman sitting in front of him couldn't see. There was…no spark in them. He sighed and directed his attention to the screen.

The movie started slowly, but toward the middle, screams and yelps began to fill the room. Grissom himself, twitched at a particularly startling moment. Sara felt it and chuckled, listening intently to what was going on that she couldn't see.

Grissom grinned her look of concentration and in a bold move, took her hand in his. She turned in his direction and whispered, "You know, I expected more…this isn't particularly scary."

Was she talking about the date, or the movie? He decided it was the latter, "That's because you can't see it," he whispered back, making sure his voice was teasing.

Sara rolled her eyes, "Well, the plot seems stupid."

He nudged her playfully, "Just pay attention."

The movie finally ended for what seemed like eternity to Sara. She quickly put her shades back on and looped her arm through Grissom's. He guided her out to the car slowly. "Good lord. That was excruciating…"

Grissom frowned, "I hope you meant the movie and not the company."

"Both," she replied, biting back a smile.

He noted her expression and grinned. Their drive home was spent talking about the movie and Grissom explaining how certain scary moments where portrayed. Sara shook her head in amusement at his enthusiasm for scary movies. She would have never pictured Grissom to be a movie man—much less a scary movie man.

They entered her apartment and Sara headed for the hallway in the dark. Grissom shook his head at how well she memorized where everything was. He switched on the lights and followed her. "Are you going to get some sleep?"

She walked into her bedroom and opened a drawer to her vanity. "Yeah, I'm beat," she said as she pulled out a set of her pajamas. "Are these my flannel ones?"

Grissom shook his head, "Nope, they're lavender."

"Hmm okay. I wonder where my other one's are."

"I'll check in the bathroom," he said, giving her the space she needed to change. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do."

When he returned, Sara was already changed and brushing her hair. Her shades were off and she looked just about ready for bed. He stared at he for a moment before announcing his presence. "Goodnight?"

She jumped a little at the sounds of his voice. Setting her brush down, she smiled at his vicinity. "Night Grissom. Thanks for the movie."

"No problem," Grissom shrugged. "I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy it fully."

"It's not what you do that matters, it's who you do it with," she replied with a shrug of her own.

His eyes widened, "Right…" He watched her slowly move away from the vanity and toward her bed. However, being so focused on staring at her, Grissom didn't realize that she came too close to him, tripping on his foot. Sara gasped as she fell forward and Grissom instinctively shot his arms out to catch her.

He pulled her upright with both hands just beneath her breast and turned her around to face him. "Are you alright?" he whispered with genuine concern.

Sara swallowed when she realized their proximity from one another, "Fine…"

Grissom brushed his hand over her lips and dipped his head down to hers. But once again, before he could even touch their lips together, Sara's hand shot up and covered his mouth. "Don't"

She dropped her hand and sighed. He was just about to pull away in embarrassment when he noticed moisture in her eyes. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing.' She turned away from him. "Look, today's been great Grissom…don't get me wrong."

He nodded and she took his silence as an urge to continue. "But I feel like everything that's happened—everything that's happening between us is because of what happened to me. And honestly, I don't want it to happen this way."

Grissom shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sara…"

She cut him off, "Don't tell me this would be happening if the situation was normal. We both know it wouldn't be."

He spun her around, "Someone once said that it doesn't matter what happens if it doesn't change anything." She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her. "I agree with you, Sara. It doesn't matter where Sophia Cattaneo ends up because it wouldn't change what you had to go through. Just like it doesn't matter how we got here. Because the feelings were always there."

"You would have never taken the risk."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She felt him closing in on her again. "I don't want this out of pity."

Grissom paused, "This isn't pity, Sara. I would never do that to you. Or to myself." He leaned forward again to the point where their noses were touching.

A tear escaped her right eye and rolled down her cheek, "It's not fair." She sniffed a little and he reached up to cup her face. "I wanted to be able to see this happening."

"If I recall," Grissom whispered as his lips grazed over her nose, "I was asleep during what was technically our first kiss. I guess it's only fair that you miss the second?"

Sara sniffed again at his attempt on humor. "None of this is fair," she grumbled right before his mouth crashed upon hers. The kiss lasted for a few seconds, but when he pulled away, she felt herself pulling him back. Her hands weaved through his hair as his tongue sought out hers.

And though Sara already couldn't see—she felt the world disappearing before her eyes.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Thanks for reading. :) Let me know how you liked it.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Another filler chapter really. But I feel I really need to show how close Grissom and Sara are getting before I hit the plot of this story again. Hope you enjoy this one.**

** Thanks to everyone that reviews. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Sara woke up from a blissful sleep cocooned in warmth. She blinked several times to get the sleep out of her eyes, but sighed when reality came back to her. She still couldn't see. No night with Grissom was going to change that. Their kiss last night had extended to making out on the bed, but it didn't go further. Truth was, Sara felt vulnerable. She couldn't see him—and if things progressed, he would be seeing all of her.

She didn't want it to happen.

And he wouldn't let it happen.

Despite everything, Grissom would always be a gentleman. So after kissing her tenderly and murmuring apologies still, he gently pulled the covers over them. And clad in all his clothes, he wrapped his arms around her and put them both to sleep contented.

Sara smiled and shifted slightly, turning around to face him. She heard a little grunt of protest and imagined the annoyed look he'd have on his face. The anger began to surface when she thought of how she couldn't see his reaction—his cute little look when something annoyed him. She pushed it away in the back of her mind forcefully, instead thinking about the step that Grissom took when her last night.

It was more of a leap.

"Good morning." A voice brought her out of her thoughts, along with an unmistakable stench.

Sara crunched up her nose humorously, "You have morning breath."

The color rose to Grissom's cheeks and he began to pull away. "Sorry, I—"

"—Relax," Sara pulled him back and reached for his face. "I was just kidding." Her thumb grazed his mouth, spotting its target. She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. "Well, you do have morning breath…"

He practically jumped away from her, horrified.

"I just don't care, Grissom."

She felt the bed move as he got up, "Well, I do." He put a hand over his mouth and huffed, taking in the scent. He winced, "It's because I didn't brush my teeth last night."

"Yeah, that would be my fault. I'm sorry about that."

Grissom smiled, "It was worth it." He headed for the bathroom, "I'll be right back. Let me go brush my teeth."

She heard the bathroom door close and slowly got up out of bed, reaching blindly for her walking cane. She located it within a few seconds and unfolded it swiftly. With surprising ease, she headed into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Sara grinned a little as she listened to the hum of the coffee machine. She was being to adjust to her blindness. Her other senses have already seemed to heighten, and she just did a routine chore that relied on her sense of sight.

Her ears perked when she heard footsteps padding towards her. She spun around, "Don't try to sneak up on me."

Grissom's jaw dropped, "You heard me?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "It's true what they say. When you lose one sense, your other four seem to kick into overdrive."

Grissom nodded, "That's what my mother told me, too."

"Your mother?"

"She is—was deaf. She passed away a few years ago."

Sara grimaced, "I'm sorry, Grissom. I never knew that."

"It's because I never wanted to share." He sighed, "Sara…I feel like I _want_ to share more when it comes to you." She stared at him blankly without her shades, making him squirm a little. "I want you to know me better," he added somewhat pathetically.

"Wow." She squinted at him out of habit, "That's a big step for you huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Admitting that you are an enigma, and actually wanting to not be one anymore," she explained.

Grissom shook his head, "No, I'll never be an open book. It's just not in my nature." He grasped her hands and squeezed. "I just want to allow you to read some of the pages."

Sara smiled softly and quipped, "Just some?"

"Don't push it."

She laughed, "Just me?"

"Just you," Grissom nodded. "We'll get to other people later."

The coffee machine beeped and Grissom dropped her hands. "I'll get that. One cream, two sugars?" Sara nodded and walked over to the breakfast bar. She felt around for a stool and hopped on. "I can't believe you made coffee on your own."

Anger.

Sara shook it away and replied calmly. "Been doing it for the past twenty years."

Grissom winced when he realized what he said. "Yes, you have."

They drank their coffee in silence and Sara picked at the omelet Grissom whipped up. She frowned and pushed away the plate. "I'm not very hungry."

"Something wrong, dear?"

Sara sighed, "I want to go out."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Yesterday wasn't that bad. Hank didn't even know I couldn't see," she said absentmindedly, and Grissom frowned at the mention of his name. "You don't mind leading me around do you? I don't exactly feel comfortable using my cane."

"Of course I don't mind," Grissom said.

"Because I don't like it when people stare at me, and I can't see the fact that they're staring," Sara said defensively.

"Honey," he interrupted. "I understand."

She nodded.

"Where do you want to go?"

"What about the park?" Sara asked with a shy smile. "Cliché, I know."

Grissom smirked and shook his head. "Not at all," he deadpanned. "Might as well make it a picnic in the park?"

Sara sneered at him humorously, "Funny."

"I was being serious. Let's go around lunchtime." He wrapped his arms around her gently from behind. "I'll make a picnic for us."

"Someone could see us you know?" she said, turning her head a little.

His lips grazed her cheek and he smiled, "A risk I'm going to have to take."

"Letting people read your pages already?"

"If it's the only way to share them with you…then yes," he replied seriously.

Sara smiled wistfully and covered his hands that were resting on her abdomen with hers. It was interesting where life would take her sometimes. And right now, with Grissom's arms gently wrapped around her—being blind seemed secondary in her life. "Thank you," she blurted randomly.

Grissom's eyebrows knitted in confusion behind her, "For what?"

"For being my primary."

* * *

Grissom laid out the picnic blanket and sat down with Sara still at his side. He grinned at her and handed her a cucumber sandwich he prepared earlier. "Bon appetite."

She took it and smiled, "Thanks."

He took one out for himself and leaned back against the tree they were under. Sara leaned back with him, opting to rest her head on his shoulder rather than the rough bark. Grissom didn't complain as hey ate their sandwiches in silence. He opened a can of Arizona Iced Tea and handed it to her, which she took wordlessly. It often spoke volumes about the relationship people have when there's silence between the two. In this case, it was comfortable silence—which said a lot about how their relationship had progressed.

Sara had a bite of her sandwich left when she froze and hissed, "Grissom! There's something crawling on my arm!" Grissom leaned around her to get a better look. She shrieked as it traveled higher up, "Get it OFF!"

"Coccinella," Grissom said as he spotted the offending bug and laughed.

Sara scowled at him as she hopped up and brushed her arm repeatedly. She stopped when she felt it brush off, "Easier doing things myself." Shooting a pointed look in his direction, she added, "Should have known you wouldn't disturb one of your precious critters."

Sara huffed at him as she sat back down and he laughed again. She might as well have stuck her tongue at him while she was at it. "It was just a ladybug, Sara."

"I didn't know that. Could've been a damn cockroach."

"There are no cockroaches in the park. They like to stay in indoor—"

"—The point his you didn't come to my rescue!" Sara wrinkled her nose at him playfully and crossed her arms.

"Rescue?!" he repeated incredulously. "From a ladybug?"

Sara snorted as she tried desperately not to laugh and Grissom cocked is eyebrow at her. She envisioned the look on his face and out came the laughter. "You're hilarious, you know that?" she said in between chuckles.

"Something I hear every day," Grissom deadpanned and grinned. He loved making Sara laugh, even if he didn't see how he was supposedly so funny.

"Are you done with your sandwich?"

He nodded and stood up, "Yep. Want to go for a walk?"

Sara agreed and stood up as well, waiting patiently for Grissom to pack up. When he did he reached out for her and placed her arm through his. They walked slowly through the grass, with Sara's arm weaved through Grissom's for guidance as well as support. Combined with him and the sunny day, no one even gave her a second glance as they slowly ambled around the park. "Tell me what you see, Grissom."

He looked at her for a moment, "I see beauty."

Sara frowned. "I wish I could see that at the moment," she murmured.

"You can." Grissom sighed, "I see beauty in you, Sara."

"That was cheesy."

He shrugged, "Yeah, I know."

"Seriously Grissom. What do you see? Be my eyes for me."

Grissom looked around at his surroundings, a bit taken aback that he hadn't noticed them before, which wasn't like him at all. But he had just been so focused on the brunette weaved against him. "I see…" He paused and took hold of Sara's face from both sides. He turned her head to the left, "Right there is a family with two kids—a boy and a girl. The father is pushing his daughter on the swing set while the son is digging in the sand and the mom is watching." He turned her around, "There…there's a strip of tulips…"

Sara smiled softly and Grissom became lost in it. His thumbs ran down her cheeks, "And right in front of you…is someone who cares about you very much." Her lip quivered. "I know I've said it before. But I'm so sorry for everything, Sara."

She nodded and thought back to the previous night. She remembered his soft kisses, and his murmurs of "sorry." Maybe she wasn't the only one that was haunted by her blindness. "Grissom…"

"—I just feel like I can't say it enough."

"You can't." She shook her head, "You can't as in no matter how many times you apologize, it won't change anything. We've been through his before, remember?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

"For the last time, I forgive you. Though honestly there's nothing to forgive—it wasn't your fault." She reached out for his hand and grasped it. "Let's move on."

Grissom's lips lifted slightly, "Okay." He looked around, "So tell me, what do _you_ see?" She frowned at him and he immediately continued. "I use to do this with my mother. Indulge me. Use your other senses and tell me what you _see_, Sara."

She closed her eyes out of habit and concentrated, letting her other senses take over. Sara heard the screams of children playing on the playground. She smelled freshly cut grass and felt the wind blow against her skin. When she opened her eyes again, she could almost swear there was a real scene before her.

She turned to Grissom with a smile, "I see a boy and a girl fighting on the monkey bars. I see freshly cut grass around me. And I see brown leaves flying through the air." She paused, "Am I close?"

Though unknown to her, Grissom beamed. "It's your reality. So yes."

Sara felt her smile expand to a size she hadn't felt in a while—even before the incident. For a split second, she actually didn't mind being blind. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He felt her squeeze his hand tighter. He squeezed right back and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Let's go home."

* * *

** TBC...**

**Let me know what you think. More to some soon. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm still sulking about Sara's departure, but it's gotten to the point where I don't want to throw all my CSI DVDs out anymore. I guess that's a step in the right direction. I miss Thursday nights, that's for sure--but I guess it's just fanfic for me now. Sorry for the late update, but I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

**Hope everyone had a great New Year! ****  
**

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"Are you _sure _it's clean?" Sara asked for the umpteenth time.

"For the last time, yes," Grissom replied.

"Well I can't exactly see for myself, can I?

Grissom huffed, "Believe me, your apartment is spotless—thanks to the past 3 hours of labor my back had to endure."

She grinned from her position on the couch, "Poor baby." She felt him shift her legs aside and the cushion dip as he sat down next to her and let out a groan. Sara frowned, "Is your back seriously hurting?"

"It'll be fine. Just sore." He added a light-hearted inflection to his voice, "I promise."

Sara snuggled into him, and he closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, "Remind me to make it up to you later."

His eyebrow rose suggestively, "Oh? How so?"

_Twack!_

"Hey!" Grissom groused as he batted the throw pillow off his face. "That was childish," he said with a grin. Their relationship had definitely evolved in the past two weeks after the trial. But one thing remained a constant unspoken rule: clothes were to remain on. Sara had her insecurities before the accident, and after, it seemed to have increased tenfold. Add that with the sexual tension that seemed to have resurfaced in full force after their walk in the park, and you're left with two very horny CSIs. "You know I was just kidding."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "You deserved it anyway, though."

Grissom smiled at her and pinched her side. "I'd never push you…you know that?"

Her hand slid up his shirt and he shivered involuntarily, making her smirk. "I know. I just wish I could…compensate for it somehow."

"Nuh uh," Grissom gulped as her fingers dipped below his waistband. "Honey…I meant what I said. We're in this together."

Sara extracted her hands and pouted, remembering earlier in the week. They were making out on the bed, content and perfectly aroused. She had every intention of pleasing him—_fully_, until Grissom put a stop to it. He wanted their relationship to be a two way street, that he would be happily ready to receive only when she was. She frowned, "Yah know…would it help if I said it would make me happy to make you happy?"

Grissom chuckled, "I'm sure it would, but no. I can wait, Sara. Till you're ready."

"What if I'll never_be _ready again?" she complained, exasperated.

"Well," he frowned, "then I guess I'll die a very unfulfilled man."

"Grissom!" she barked, half laughing and half in agitation. "I'm serious. I want to be able to see before I…expose myself to you."

He laughed at her choice of words and clasped her hand tightly in his, "You've exposed yourself in a much more intimate way these past weeks already. The fact that you've trusted me—that's more than enough for me."

Her heart melted at his words.

"For now," he added with a suggestive smirk.

She yanked her hand away playfully, "Way to ruin the moment."

He shrugged, "Stop worrying about it." Pulling her back into his chest, he sighed, "Your name is pretty high on the donor list. Not many people exactly need new corneas. You could be seeing again in no time."

"I love how you use logic to make me feel better. It's such a turn-on," she deadpanned.

"So I've been told."

"Even though it's flawed."

Grissom scoffed, "My logic is never flawed. A bit bent perhaps, but not necessarily flawed."

Sara shook her head and hovered over him, "Oh just shut up."

He did as commanded as her lips brushed over his. Her hands began to wander again, specifically targeting below his belt. She moaned in delight as she felt him harden within her grasp, and he groaned and batted her hand away. Tearing his mouth reluctantly away from hers he scowled, "Sara…"

"Okay, okay, okay…I'll stop."

Grissom panted and stood up, attempting to cool himself down, and Sara couldn't help but grin. "The team's going to be here any minute."

Caught up in the moment, Sara almost forgot why Grissom had spent three hours cleaning in the first place. They had decided on inviting the gang over for lunch—Sara providing the apartment, and them providing the food. "I almost forgot," she said, still hearing his deep intake of breaths. "How's it going over there?"

Grissom shot her a withering look, "I can't just turn it off, you know…" he complained, silently willing his erection to go down.

"I can help with that," she suggested huskily.

"You're _not_helping!" he said as his body reacted to her low voice. Grissom cleared his throat, "I'm going to take a shower before they come—er arrive." His face flushed a deeper shade of pink, "They'll be here in fifteen minutes—I should be out by then."

Sara grinned slightly to herself as she heard his footsteps scurry down the hall and the bathroom door close. It felt good to know that blind or not, she had an effect on him physically. She smiled, delighted and lost in thought. Soon his footsteps were heading her way again. "How was the shower?" she asked with a smirk.

Grissom cleared his throat, "Useful."

"I'm sure it was," she replied just as the doorbell rang. "Looks like our guests are here."

Grissom padded over to the door, drying his hair with a towel in the process. "Behave yourself," he warned playfully.

"Always."

He swung the door open and Sara immediately heard a bunch of voices all at once, consisting of "hellos" and "how is shes."

"Sara!" Greg's voice filtered through like an out-of-tune melody. She stood up and was instantly wrapped in a hug, "Sorry we haven't visited you. The labs been hectic with both you and Grissom gone."

"No worries," she said with a grin. "Thanks for coming."

"Move it shorty," Warrick's voice cut through the air behind Greg. "You had your turn." Sara laughed and stepped into Warrick's awaiting arms. "How've you been, girl? Better?"

She smiled into his chest, "It's been good. Adjusting."

"Careful with that pie, Griss!" Nick's Texas drawl rang through the air next. Sara heard his footsteps close in on her. "Jesus, it was homemade."

"Oh Nicky…"

"Sara," he said as he enveloped her. "Sorry I haven't visited. I'm sure you can imagine how busy the lab's been. It's like the criminals know our top CSI is MIA."

Not sure if Nick meant herself or Grissom, she forced a tight smile, "They are getting smarter every year," she said with a shrug.

"Chyeah…but hey, I made it up to you by bringing in a homemade, Stokes family secret recipe, apple pie for desert."

"Pfft, please," Sara heard Catherine hedge in and then felt her significantly smaller arms replace Nick's. "How've you been?"

"Good."

"Gil been treating you right?"

Sara bit back a smirk, thinking of a whole string of suggestive replies to that. However, she could almost feel Grissom's glare pinned on her. "Yeah," she said with a grin, "He's been great."

"Good," Catherine nodded. "Let's eat shall we? I'm starved."

They dug into the platters of food, buffet style. Grissom led Sara around the dishes, explaining what everyone had brought. Greg brought the beer and soda, which she passed on in favor of water. Warrick and Catherine both brought her vegetarian main dishes—chow mein and burritos respectively. Grissom put both on her plate, despite her protest of not being able to eat that much.

"Make sure she gets the burrito with the "V" on the foil. The rest of 'em have meat." Catherine said.

When everyone had their plate of food, they sat around the coffee table in Sara's tiny living room, with Grissom and Sara pressed up against one couch, and Catherine and Warrick against the other, leaving Nick on the floor and Greg in the recliner. Greg was the first one to speak. "So…what have you and Grissom been up to eh?" he asked with a slurp of his noodle.

Sara wrinkled her nose at the suggestive tone of his question, "Oh, nothing much. Just hanging out—music, TV, the usual."

"That's it?" he hedged.

Grissom cleared his throat, "Not everyone needs to be bouncing around in order to find amusement in their lives, Greg."

"Well, you know," Greg shrugged, "It's just…two people, holed up in a tiny apartment—I can think of better ways to spend my time." He paused and then added suggestively, "I guess you can use the term_bouncing_ as one of them."

Sara choked on a piece of noodle.

Grissom shot Greg a withering look, "Again, we aren't teenagers."

Nick and Warrick were silent, covering their faces with their respective burritos—their grins peeking out behind the foil, but Catherine was much more open to the idea of teasing their favorite two geeks. "Oh, relax Gil. The _last_ thing we want to know is details of what you and Sara do on your alone time." She smirked in delight when Grissom's face flushed a deep magenta to match Sara's. "Just make the last day count."

"Last day?" Sara spewed as she came up for air.

Grissom nodded, "I guess I forgot to mention that I'm due back to work tomorrow night." Sara frowned, and he immediately reassured her, "Don't worry, Warrick and Greg have the most vacation time stored up, so they'll be checking up on you."

Sara sighed, "I don't need to be checked up on."

"I know, honey."

"Can't you tell Ecklie to shove it?"

"I wish."

"You can."

The four other heads in the room bounced from Grissom and Sara in unison, almost like they were observing a ping-pong match.

"I can't take more than two weeks without going on sabbatical," Grissom explained.

"I know."

"You know that I would rather stay right?"

"I know."

"I'll come over after work."

Sara reached out her hand—palm up, "I know."

He placed his hand in hers and squeezed. "I love you," he sighed.

The other four occupants in the room simultaneously dropped their jaws, Catherine even emitting a small squeak. Both Grissom and Sara snapped their heads at the sound, their little trance broken. Grissom bit his lower lip as he felt his face burn in mild embarrassment. "I love her," he repeated quietly with a shrug to the rest of the crowd.

Sara's eyes glazed over as she'd silently prayed for her eyesight to return at that moment, even if it meant offering her right arm in order to see the expression on Grissom's face. She too sighed and clumsily reached up to touch his face with her free hand, "I know you do."

Greg, Warrick, and Nick shifted in their seats uncomfortably at the sight of their boss and co-worker being so intimate, while Catherine had her hands to her mouth, not believing it was actually happening. Sara's head dropped as she finally admitted defeat, "I need you."

Grissom's grin was bittersweet, "I know."

* * *

**TBC...**

** Leave a review? Thanks:) **


	17. Chapter 17

**Alright, so I'm very skeptical about how this chapter plays out. In a way, I fudged the medical info--so if you are studying to be a doctor or something, be warned that his chapter my annoy you. **

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. I hope everyone gets what is going on in this chapter, especially the somewhat cryptic end. Let me know how you like it:) **

* * *

** Chapter 17**

Grissom shuffled through the endless mounds of paperwork piled on top of his desk. He sighed, wanting nothing more than to be back at Sara's apartment with her. Catherine entered as soon as he sought out tonight's assignment slips. He looked up at her with distain. "What happen to I'll take care of your workload, Gil?'" he whined pathetically, making Catherine smirk.

"I tried. But between you and Sara, we were definitely short-handed. I spent most of my time out in the field."

"Of course," he said with mock-cheeriness.

Nick, Warrick, and Greg all appeared at his doorway suddenly. "We gonna have a shift tonight or what?" Warrick asked.

Grissom nodded, "Two cases. Trick roll, Warrick."

Warrick's nose automatically scrunched. "Gee, thanks boss," he said as he took the slip. As he exited, he tossed out playfully, "It's good to have yah back."

Grissom puckered his lips wryly, "Nick, Greg, DB in Henderson."

Nick nodded and took the slip while Greg whooped, "Awesome."

"Later guys," Nick said as he dragged a jubilant Greg with him.

Catherine frowned, "Where does that leave us?"

"Paperwork." Her face immediately scrunched in complaint. Grissom flashed his best puppy dog look, "I need help." Catherine rolled her eyes. "Please."

Taking a seat across from him, she offered her hand without a word. Smiling, Grissom handed her a file. They got to work immediately, attempting to reduce the piles on Grissom's desk. Catherine finished her fourth file and glanced up at what Grissom was working on. "Explain to me how I finished writing off four cases, while you are still nursing the first," she huffed.

Grissom blinked. He cleared his throat and refocused on the file in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"Just call her," Catherine groaned.

"Sara's very independent. You know that. And plus, I left her breakfast. And she promised me not to move around too much," he added.

"Let me guess, she said she'd kill you if you tried to check up on her."

"Not in those exact words," he admitted.

"Same difference," Catherine chuckled. "Gil, I'm sure Sara is perfectly capable of taking care of herself—blind or not. But if you're gonna continue at a snail's pace, just call her for your peace of mind."

Grissom looked contemplative for a second. As he reached for the phone, it rang on it's own accord. He frowned as he picked up, "Grissom." Catherine watched as he scribbled an address on a notepad. "We'll be right there."

Catherine raised both eyebrows at him expectedly, "Who was that?"

"That was Brass, PD just got a call of a suicide. Should be open and shut."

"Good," Catherine nodded as she rose, "I guess I'll take this one?"

"Er…" Grissom rose with her, "On second thought, it could very well be a homicide for all you know. I'll go with you."

Catherine rolled her eyes as she followed him out the door.

* * *

As Grissom steered the Denali next to Brass's car, Catherine gasped. "Grissom! This is Sarah Shelby's house." 

Giving each other pointed looks, they exited their vehicles and approached the house. Brass met them just inside the door, where the body laid. "Victim's name is Sarah Shelby," Brass stated as he guided the two CSIs to the body.

Grissom raised a brow, "We know. She's Gregory Shelby's wife—the case I reassigned Sara, too.

"Jesus, Gil. I didn't know her name. I—didn't make the connection."

"You were never part of that case, Jim." Grissom knelt down by the body just as David rolled in with a gurney. "You couldn't have known."

Brass sighed, "So we have another dead Shelby. At least this one's less complicated." He handed Grissom a sheet of paper in his gloved hand, "Suicide note."

"Where was it found?" Catherine asked.

Brass pointed to the broken man outside next to the police officer, "Gus Garrison. He found it next to the body. Called 911 right after."

"Let's go have a word with him shall we, Jim?"

"Alright," Brass nodded, "We'll be back, Gil."

"Mmph," Grissom acknowledged with a nod back.

"We meet again," Catherine said as she approached Gus Garrison.

The broken man scratched his beard and rubbed the tears that formed in his eyes, "Yeah."

A part of Catherine felt sorry for the guy. He was obviously in love with Sarah Shelby, despite their obvious age difference. And after being a prime suspect for her husband's murder, being cleared, and finally able to start their lives together, she commits suicide. Poor guy. "You found her?"

He nodded, "She called me actually…said she was sorry." His shoulders slumped, "I asked her what she was talking about, but she hung up. I drove here right away, but…it was too late."

Catherine resisted the urge to give him a hug. "You were having an affair. One that started before the death of her husband. How do we know you didn't kill her?"

Garrison's eyes shot up, "I would _never_ do anything to hurt Sarah."

"So you say," Brass chimed in. "Maybe after all this, she decided she didn't want to be with you. And you couldn't accept that."

He huffed out a sorrowful laugh. "Even if that were true, I still wouldn't harm her—much less kill her." Giving Catherine a helpless look, he added, "I love her. I just want her to be happy. I should have told her in the beginning, when she first started to work for me. But I couldn't. I was too insecure. Too scared. Too afraid she'd end up hurting me. Leaving me because she'd find someone younger, better."

Catherine cocked an eyebrow and couldn't help but think of another graying recluse that was in the house at the moment. Brass made eye contact with her and she knew he sensed the parallels between the broken man in front of them and Grissom. "So what changed?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She got married." Garrison shrugged, "I was so afraid she'd leave me for someone younger, that when it actually happened, I was more heartbroken over the fact I didn't love her first." A lone tear ran down his face, "All of a sudden, those insecurities—those fears…seemed meaningless."

"She seemed to feel the same way about you. Which is why I find it odd that she would just commit suicide. You picked up the suicide note?"

"Yeah." Garrison blinked, "It said 'Through living, I am reminded of death. In death, I will find peace with all the sin's I've committed.' She blamed herself for Greg's death. But really…" He shook his head, "It was my fault. Sophie did it because of me. He died because of me."

"Mr. Garrison…" Catherine attempted to interrupt.

"_She _died because of me."

Back inside the house, Grissom focused on the body in front of him. He winced at the resemblance she had to his Sara. Not only her name, but her physical appearance. She was no Debbie Marlin, but she had brown, shoulder length hair, fair skin, and a tall, lanky frame. "David, take a liver temp would you?"

"Yes sir."

Grissom reached over and pulled back an eyelid. A saturated brown eye stared back at him. He cocked his head in surprise. "David…?"

The assistant coroner opened his mouth in surprise as the body bled from puncture he initiated. "Uhhh…"

Grissom craned his neck to witness the blood flow from where the thermometer was still sticking out and immediately put his hand to the victim's neck. "It's weak, but I have a pulse!" He scrambled for his kit, and pulled out some gauze, "David, get that would taken care of now!"

Catherine, Brass, and Gus Garrison were suddenly in the room. "What the hell is doing on?" Catherine demanded.

Grissom ignored her, "Control, this is CSI Grissom, I need an ambulance at my location immediately. Victim is still alive."

"Sarah's still alive?" Garrison gasped through his tears.

"Whoa," Brass said as he put his arm in front of him, "Keep away from the body."

David continued putting pressure on the wound he created. "Why does this always happen to me?" he whined.

* * *

"One hell of a night for your first day back huh?" Catherine said as she handed Grissom a cup of hospital coffee. 

"Mmm."

"Okay spill." He gave her an unreadable look. "Gil, you demand her to be rushed to the hospital with such urgency, and now we are waiting around for the doctors. What's going on? This isn't another Debbie Marlin incident is it?"

Grissom shot her a deadly glare, "No."

"Then tell me what's going on."

"I want to know what happened to her."

"I can buy that," Catherine nodded. "But the last time you were this dead set on finding out what happened to a victim was—"

—Grissom's glare returned. "This has nothing to do with what little resemblance she has to Sara."

Catherine pointed to the man slumped in a chair across the room, "What about your resemblance to that man?"

Grissom glanced at Garrison for a second and frowned, "That's one I don't see."

"You should talk to him. He's practically your clone. Socially inept. Loves Sarah. Heck, I think he's even known for his macro photography in exotic insects."

"Do you have a point here, Catherine?"

Catherine shrugged, "I'm just saying. If you are relating to the case too much, just tell me. You're only human, Grissom."

"I'm not relating to the case personally," Grissom sighed. He closed his eyes briefly in annoyance, "This case has become personal, but not for the reasons you think."

"Then what—"

Before Catherine could finish, a doctor walked out and approached Garrison. Grissom immediately followed him with Catherine in trail. "Mr. Garrison, I'm Dr. Shen." Catherine recognized him as the doctor that treated Sara's eyesight. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Ms. Shelby did attempt to take her life. And while she didn't succeed, she caused significant brain damage."

Garrison ran his hand down his face, "And what does that mean? Exactly?"

Dr. Shen lowered his eyes briefly, "I'm afraid the chances of her waking up are slim. She's relying on life-support right now. Her body is functioning fine, except her brain isn't communicating with it. I'm so sorry."

"So what now?" Garrison asked, the defeat in his voice as evident as the tears in his eyes.

"It said in Ms. Shelby's file that after her husband passed, you are her legal power of attorney." Dr. Shen dipped his head as he walked away, "The decision's up to you."

Garrison stood frozen before Grissom's voice brought him back to reality. He cleared his throat, "What are you guys still doing here? Didn't I prove that I had nothing to do with this already?"

Grissom bit the inside of his lip, "I'm not here about that Mr. Garrison. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Catherine looked from one man to another, noticing that despite a small height difference and Garrison's straight hair as opposed to Grissom's curly waves, they were essentially the same man.

"Sarah's not dead yet. There's still hope."

"So you're not taking her off life-support?" Grissom asked slowly.

Garrison shook his head, "She's a fighter."

"I'm sure she is," Grissom all but whispered. "She reminds me of someone I know." Catherine raised her brows in surprise. Garrison stared at him wearily. "Her name is Sara, too. She's young, beautiful, and the only person that's been able to make my heart beat and stop at the same time."

Garrison sat back down in his seat with his head buried in his hands, "Why are you telling me this?"

'Yeah, what the hell is going on, Gil?' Catherine thought.

Grisson knelt down, maintaining eye level again with Garrison. "I was scared. I couldn't put my career on the line for her. But most importantly, I couldn't put my heart on the line."

Garrison's head snapped up at this.

"And because of it, I caused her pain. For years, I caused her pain…"

"I know how you feel," Garrison choked out a whisper. "Believe me."

Grissom nodded, "Recently, my actions caused her to lose something of irreplaceable value. My worst fears came true despite my choice of pushing her away. She still stole my heart. And my personal problems impaired my professional decisions. And now she may never be able to see again."

Catherine smiled softly behind Grissom at his heartfelt words.

"At least she's still alive," Garrison replied.

"Alive and living are two separate things, Mr. Garrison. I believe Ms. Shelby is a perfect example of that."

He looked at Grissom sharply, "You—" He clenched his jaw, "You have no right to say that." A look of exhaustion and defeat then graced his features, "But you're right."

"You can help me," Grissom all but pleaded.

The desperation in his voice is what gave it away. Realization dawned on Catherine. "Gil…" she hissed as she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Help you how?" Garrison asked.

"Sarah won't wake up, but her body—her _eyes_…everything that's _her_ still works."

Garrison's eyes widened as he realized what Grissom was asking of him, "No…no." He sank into the chair, "It wasn't supposed to end like this. Our love was so strong."

"It still is," Grissom answered, "I don't doubt that."

"It wasn't enough to save her." He paused. "I couldn't save her."

"Please," Grissom pleaded softly, "Help me save _my_ Sara."

* * *

**TBC...**

** Let me know what you think...good or bad, doesn't matter. :) **


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